


The List

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chocolate Syrup, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Happy Ending, Lingerie, Littlefinger being creepy, Loss of Virginity, Massage, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Older Man/Younger Woman, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Club, Shameless Smut, Stannis saves the day, Strawberries, boner angst, escape from a bad situation, references to Stannis/Melisandre, references to Willas Tyrell/Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 87,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She’s the spitting image of her mother,” Baelish continued, supremely unconcerned by the angry, confused looks Stannis was shooting him, “I always did like her mother.”</p><p>“If you were fond of her mother, why are you putting her on the list?” Stannis growled, unable to contain himself.</p><p>“I already told you,” Baelish said, looking rather baffled by the question, “she’ll make me a fortune.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Auction

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot. It is not one.
> 
> I'd like to draw your attention to the tags. There will be some non-con elements in this fic, although I will do my best to keep everything that isn't consensual non-graphic. I'm tagging this fic as Sansa/Petyr because there are some scenes where they are interacting in a very non-platonic way but this story is basically all about the Stannis/Sansa ship.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** GRRM would probably clutch at his pearls because of this fic, but at least I don't own anything and I make no profit.

Stannis could not believe he had allowed himself to be talked into attending this _awful_ event. It truly was far beneath him to even breathe the same air as some of these low, despicable excuses for human beings. They were all convinced that their money and their so-called _power_ gave them the right to treat people like possessions. They acted like they were above the _law._

_“Stannis, if you don’t go in my place and make my excuses to Baelish I won’t be invited to come next time. I know it’s seedy, but every rich and powerful man in Westeros goes to these things. I’m able to make a lot of important connections when I go. These connections are vital to my survival as a politician! I only got elected last year because of the hands I shook at one of Littlefinger’s events.”_

Robert’s words echoed in his mind as he ground his teeth and made a beeline for Petyr Baelish. The sooner he did what Robert asked, the sooner he could go. He’d just have to make sure Robert would be invited to the next… cesspool of human indecency, and then Stannis could leave and take three consecutive showers.

“Mr. Baratheon!” Baelish exclaimed when he spotted Stannis, “what an intriguing surprise! I never expected to see you grace one of my little soirées.” Baelish was smiling at him, but there was nothing friendly about the calculating look in his eyes. Stannis felt uncomfortably like he was being measured for a coffin.

“Believe me, I have no wish to be here. My brother sent me to take his place and to send his… sincere apologies for being unable to make it himself. He does not wish to lose his place on your roster.” Stannis felt dirty and used for being compelled to even deliver a message to Baelish. His eyes fell on the young girl standing next to Littlefinger and he found himself unable to imagine how _she_ must feel. She was barely even _dressed._ He ground his teeth even more forcefully and made himself focus on Baelish. He’d have nightmares if he continued to observe the hopelessness in the girl’s eyes. Especially since he knew only too well that there was _nothing_ he could do to help her. He only needed to look around to understand that anyone who might have been petitioned to put a stop to this was actively taking part in letting it happen. He knew that Robert was slowly, but surely, trying to weed out the corruption, but it was a protracted process, and his brother was often forced to take two steps back for every one step he took forward. Stannis sometimes worried that Robert wouldn’t even be trying to do as much as he was if it weren’t for Ned’s memory and Stannis continually insisting on it.

“Ah! Robert will be sorely missed tonight. I was so hoping to see whether he’d take a particular interest in one of the treasures that will be available later this evening. She just turned eighteen, so it will be her first time on the list. She’s still completely untouched, so I expect she’ll fetch me a small fortune. Between you and me, I’m almost considering keeping her to myself, but the kind of money she’ll be able to make me is impossible to resist.”

Stannis was careful to keep his expression fixed and cold. It would not do for someone like Littlefinger to see that Stannis felt acutely for the poor girl. Stannis had a _daughter_ , for fuck’s sake. He was barely keeping it together without Baelish rubbing these things in his face. Stannis wanted nothing more than to wrap the conversation up quickly, but the fact that Baelish had said that Robert might be particularly interested in the girl made Stannis curious. Robert had sworn up and down that he never partook in the auctions. Had his brother been lying?

“Why would Robert take a particular interest?” Stannis bit out through gritted teeth.

“I believe the girl’s father was a close friend of Robert’s,” Littlefinger said, an malicious light making his eyes glitter eerily.

Stannis felt himself blanch. If the girl was the daughter of someone who ran in Robert’s social circles she should not be anywhere near Littlefinger’s clutches.

“Oh?” Stannis said, fishing for more information.

“Yes, it would have been very entertaining to see whether he recognised her,” Baelish said with a smirk.

 _Fuck._ Who on earth could Baelish be referring to?

“She’s the spitting image of her mother,” Baelish continued, supremely unconcerned by the angry, confused looks Stannis was shooting him, “I always did like her mother.”

“If you were fond of her mother, why are you putting her on the list?” Stannis growled, unable to contain himself.

“I already told you,” Baelish said, looking rather baffled by the question, “she’ll make me a fortune.”

Stannis suppressed the urge to walk up to the nearest wall and repeatedly bash his head against it. Men like Littlefinger did not understand decency.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of allowing my precious sweetling to be hurt. I’ve taught her well. She’ll be able to hold her own.”

 _Did the man hear himself when he spoke?_ Stannis wondered incredulously.

Baelish did not seem to notice Stannis’ horrified disbelief. “Have a seat, enjoy yourself! The List will be distributed shortly, and there will of course be entertainment. Oh, and tell Robert that I’ll be sure to invite him to the next event.” With that, Baelish wandered off towards a group of men who should be _arresting him_ not hailing him as some sort of hero. Stannis knew he must be turning purple by now, but he couldn’t make himself calm down. The injustice of this situation was turning his stomach. Every time he attempted to count to ten and manage his rage, the thought of Shireen in this kind of situation accosted him, and he was right back to being furious.

If it hadn’t been for the mysterious girl, he would have simply left. He had managed to make sure that Robert would be invited to the next _’event’_ and that was all he had really needed to do. But he couldn’t leave in good conscience now that he knew an innocent girl that might be connected to Robert somehow was to be on the list. Not when there was still a chance to prevent anything… untoward from happening to her. Stannis felt himself flushing with embarrassment and anger at the idea of what some of the men in this room might take it into their heads to do to her if they won her in the auction. He had heard too many lewd comments from his ‘fellow’ men in his time to imagine that the girl would be spared a humiliating, painful experience. 

With a shudder Stannis set about discreetly finding out exactly what the rules of the auction were. If he was going to try to help the girl he needed all the information he could get. Thankfully it was not difficult to get the information he needed. As soon as devices with the list started to circulate, the rules could be read at the top of the electronic document. Stannis had just retreated to a secluded corner with a copy of the list and a glass of lemon water when the first _’entertainer’_ of the evening was announced.

She was a beautiful blonde, and she moved gracefully, but all Stannis could see was how well she hid her sadness. (Not well enough.) She was doing some kind of teasing dance, removing her clothes and hiding behind a fan with oversized feathers. It was ridiculous, but the men seemed to like it. They were calling out, howling and whistling like a pack of rabid wolves. Stannis couldn’t make himself continue to look when she was down to wearing next to nothing. It wasn’t _proper._ It wasn’t _decent._

He focused on the list on the screen of the electronic tablet in his hands, reading the information in the header.

**_The Auction_ **

**_Step 1:_** Pay the entrance fee.  Click here to enter your account number.  
**_Step 2:_** Review the List of Items.  Click here. (Please note that the List will only appear once the entrance fee has been paid.)  
**_Step 3:_** Select the number of the item you would like to bid on and enter the amount you are willing to pay. Note that if the amount is lower than the highest bid you will be prompted to enter a higher amount or cancel.  
**_Step 4:_** As the evening progresses you will be notified if anyone outbids you. You will be offered a chance to up your bid. Decline or accept at your leisure. No bids are accepted after midnight.  
**_Step 5:_** At midnight you will be notified if you have won an item, your account will be charged for the amount you bid, and a member of the staff will lead you to a secluded room where you may enjoy your purchase.

_Please note that the merchandise is not to be taken off the premises for any reason and unfortunately we must insist on a six hour time limit._

_Enjoy your evening._

Of course. One would need to incriminate oneself by paying that ‘entrance fee’ to even take part. The wording never mentioned that the ‘items’ on auction were living, breathing _people._ It was cleverly done. Disgustingly repugnant and morally bankrupt, but clever. Stannis also noticed that the auction was silent. One might come to such an event and never realise what was going on under the surface. It was a very thin veneer of respectability, but a veneer nonetheless. There was nothing illegal about the ‘entertainers’, but Stannis was sure that this _Auction_ was far from legal. As far as he knew, it was a person’s right to sell their body if they so chose, and procuring such a service was not illegal either, but Stannis was certain that the law forbade whoremongering and pimping. To act as the go-between, and profiting off the sale of another person’s body was completely unlawful in Westeros.

With a sigh he paid the entrance fee so that he might gather information about the girl Littlefinger had mentioned. Baelish had said that she was untouched and Stannis was sure that there couldn’t be many who fit that criteria. It took him less than a minute to scroll through the list and find that the name ‘Alayne Stone’ had a tacky little unicorn symbol next to it. Stannis clicked on Alayne’s name and was immediately brought to a page with several pictures of the girl, and all of her vital statistics. 

He recognised her at once. 

Baelish was right; Sansa Stark had grown up to look remarkably like her mother.

Stannis felt a little faint at his discovery. Ned and his entire family had been murdered in their beds three years ago... Robert had been heartbroken for weeks, drinking himself nearly to death. Clearly the eldest girl had somehow survived and Baelish must have been hiding her ever since.

He had never really been on the best terms with Ned, but he had respected him. Ned had been one of the few men in Westeros who had a shred of honour, and it had not really been Ned’s fault that Robert had continually chosen Ned over his own brothers. Ned’s death had not really brought Robert and Stannis any closer, but Robert _did_ rely on Stannis a lot more, now. It was a bitter pill to swallow to know that Robert considered Stannis a poor replacement for Ned, but Stannis knew that helping Robert was the only way he would ever be able to make a difference in Westeros. He would never get elected to office himself. He was not _charming_ enough, or willing to do everything that Robert did to get the necessary votes.

Stannis squeezed his eyes shut briefly, trying to stop his train of thought. It would not do to sink into a mire of self-pity. He needed to figure out what to do about Sansa.

Stannis wished he had more _time._ If he could just go to Robert and tell him that Sansa was alive and in Littlefinger’s clutches, he was sure that Robert would stop at _nothing_ to rescue her. Ned’s precious girl would be Robert’s first, second and third priority until she was safe. But if Stannis left now, she would undoubtedly be in for six hours of pain, humiliation, and abuse. (What on earth could these men be doing that could require _six_ hours?) He could not abandon her to that fate. Ned would never have allowed such a thing to happen to Shireen. 

Two men wandered over to stand near Stannis’ secluded spot, obviously in the middle of discussing the List.

“I think I’ll bid on Ros again, she is _excellent_.”

“I’m curious about the new girl, Alayne Stone. I think she’s scheduled to sing later. I wonder why she wasn’t on the list last month...”

“Don’t be an idiot Harry, it says right here that she’s untouched. Her eighteenth name day was less than a week ago. Of course she wasn’t on the list last time.”

“How was I supposed to know that stuff is true?”

“This is a classy establishment.”

“Well, if she’s really a virgin she is probably way above my pay grade.”

“I heard Tyrion Lannister is interested in her and you know how deep his pockets are. The rest of us can just forget about bidding, really.”

Stannis had to force himself to relax his jaw so that he wouldn’t hurt himself or grind his molars into powder. Tyrion Lannister - any Lannister for that matter - would touch Sansa over Stannis’ dead body.

There was nothing for it. Stannis would simply have to bid on the girl himself. He still hadn’t really touched his third of the Baratheon inheritance, so he should be able to afford to outbid Tyrion Lannister. He doubted the dwarf would want to explain spending too large a sum at Littlefinger’s establishment to his father, and Stannis was certain that Tywin kept a close eye on his children’s bank accounts.

The idea of lining Littlefinger’s pockets was infuriating, but Stannis didn’t know what else to do. There simply did not seem to be a way to save Sansa without getting his hands dirty. Perhaps if he had a time machine he could have managed it, but as things stood…

Stannis looked at his tablet again wanting to take a better look at Sansa’s pictures. The tablet had gone back to showing the List. He deliberately avoided clicking on any of the other names as it would hurt too much to put faces to those names and then do nothing to help them. He swore to himself that he would take Baelish down after this. Even if it took him _years._ He was sure Robert would help him once he learnt what Baelish was trying to do to Sansa. Perhaps there were still enough decent men in King’s Landing to make it happen...

Seeing Sansa’s face again after all this time was very strange. She was wearing a lot of make-up in the pictures, but at least she was dressed decently enough. The fabric of her clothes was clinging uncomfortably tightly to her figure, but she was _covered._ The last time Stannis had seen her she had been about ten years old. A beautiful child, but a child still. He could see traces of the child in the photographs, though she was clearly a young woman now. Or perhaps the cosmetics were playing tricks on him? She was only eighteen, after all. A teenager.

 _“Are you angry about something, Mr. Baratheon?”_ Sansa had asked him when last they had spoken.

 _”Not particularly,”_ he had replied, a little taken aback at her blunt question.

 _”Oh.”_ she had looked a little flustered, but curious and rather sweet. Shireen had been quite young at that point, but his daughter had softened his heart considerably when it came to children. He tried not to show it, of course. Children could be incredibly fiendish, and he did not want them to know that they could manipulate him by being sufficiently adorable.

 _”Only I’ve never seen anyone frown quite as much as you do,”_ Sansa had blurted shyly, her face turning pink.

Stannis could still remember how he had almost smiled at the girl, amused by her frank assessment. He had made do with smoothing his frown away and raising an eyebrow. She had been called away at that point. It hadn’t been much of a conversation, but it was the only moment Stannis could clearly remember sharing with the girl. All the previous moments had melted into a mixture of casual greetings at Yuletide parties, brief appearances at namedays and other important events that warranted big cakes.

Would she remember him when she saw him? Or would the fact that he had moved to Dragonstone when she was ten mean that she would have forgotten all about Robert’s brother who frowned more than anyone else?

Stannis was a tactical thinker and he was already plotting the best way to win the bidding war that was sure to commence as the evening wore on. He’d need to scope out the competition, obviously, and he’d need to figure out a way to take very rich contenders out of the running somehow. Stannis had access to a lot of money, but he was a pauper next to the Lannisters and the Tyrells.

Trying to remain unnoticed, Stannis made his way over to the cluster of sofas where Mace Tyrell was sitting with a few other powerful men who had gone to seed in their old age. He sat down within hearing range with his back to them, pretending to be absorbed in his tablet. No one took any notice of him. At the moment the men were discussing whether to back a proposed bit of legislation, and Stannis almost forgot what he was trying to accomplish because it was so interesting to hear their scheming firsthand. Robert would be very interested to know about this!

He was reminded of his goal later in the evening when the announcer introduced Alayne Stone to the stage. At first Stannis blanched at the idea that she would be forced to remove all or most of her clothes like some of the other girls, but according to the announcer, Sansa’s act was strictly a musical one. He was in the middle of a sigh of relief when the lights all dimmed, and a spotlight lit up a the curtains that hid most of the stage in between acts. Every single man in the room went still and quiet, some craning their necks or even standing up to get a better look at the circle of light.

A beautiful voice started singing a capella, clear as a bell, smooth as velvet, and seductive in a way that Stannis found difficult to understand. Perhaps it was the way her voice sounded a little breathless?

”You had plenty money, nineteen twenty-two…”

A long, smooth, porcelain-white leg clad only in a black, glittering high-heeled shoe appeared from behind the curtains as the voice sang the first lyrics of the song. A slow, sultry and jazzy beat started up as soon as she words ‘nineteen twenty-two’ hung in the air, and the leg was revealed to be attached to none other than Sansa Stark. She walked out from behind the curtains, moving gracefully, and singing into a hand-held microphone in her clear, smooth voice. She was wearing a black, very sheer dress that glittered like a thousand diamonds in the spotlight. The material appeared slightly denser in the places that most needed to be covered, and there was a long slit up the side that had allowed her to bare most of her leg at the start of the song. Sansa made very deliberate use of the slit in her skirt, flashing her thigh suggestively at the crowd as she walked around, singing her slow song and letting her free hand trail excruciatingly slowly from her glossy red hair - artfully tousled and glowing copper in the spotlight - to her neck, down her side and to the top of her thigh.

“Why don't you do right, like some other men do?”

Stannis very much wanted to do right by her, but she was not making it easy. Her simple act of singing and strutting around the stage like she owned it, leaning against the wall, swaying seductively and generally _looking like that_ was driving the men in the room wilder than any of the other entertainers had managed to. The men nearest the stage seemed to be on the verge of resorting to violence to keep their spots, and the wolf whistles were almost drowning out the lyrics. After this he was sure that every man in the room would be rushing to empty their pockets, bank accounts and even liquidate their assets in order to win her.

He was also sure that she wouldn’t be able to see him staring at her as he was just one face in the sea of faces that were turned towards her, not to mention how the bright spotlight had to be blinding her, but he couldn’t help but hope that she would meet his eyes and recognise him. It was an uncomfortable and stupidly chivalrous feeling, but he wanted her to see him so that he could reassure her; tell her with his eyes that he was going to help her and that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought that she did see him for a moment. At least he thought her eyes had widened a little just as she finished her song, her red lips parted to sing the drawn out final note, and she had been looking in his direction at the time. It was the only moment during her act when her eyes had been anything but completely guarded.

When Sansa had left the stage and everyone had returned to their previous seat or place at the bar, the conversation Stannis had been listening in on before the music started became much more relevant to his goal of helping Sansa.

“I wouldn’t mind breaking that one in, I’ll tell you that,” one of the men chortled, setting off a volley of laughter and crude comments.

“How about it Mace? Are you going to go for it? You could outbid the rest of these clowns in a trice.”

Stannis suddenly felt the need to do something violent. The idea of Mace Tyrell, the man who had nearly bankrupted the Baratheon estate twenty years ago, touching even a single hair on Sansa’s head was abhorrent to Stannis. He knew Robert would be outraged at the very thought! It was Stannis’ duty as a decent human being, as a Baratheon, and as man to prevent it from happening.

_But how?_

“I daresay he won’t be able to outbid _me,_ ” Tyrion Lannister had walked over and was standing in front of Mace, an insolent smirk on his face. Stannis hadn’t seen him approaching because Tyrion wasn’t exactly a tall man.

“The Tyrells are just as wealthy as the Lannisters, I’ll have you know!” Mace blustered, his face becoming rather splotchy.

“Oh, I’m certain of that. But if you attempt to bid on Alayne I am going to call your wife and tell her exactly where you are and what you’re doing,” Tyrion said dryly, an amused glint in his eyes.

“That’s against the rules! You’ll be thrown out!” Mace half-shouted, clearly incensed.

“Who will come off worse if it comes to that? You will undoubtedly have to go through a messy divorce. I, on the other hand, will be free to come back to the next event and get what I want,” Tyrion patiently explained with an unconcerned shrug.

Mace spluttered in indignant outrage for a while, but eventually got himself under control. “Fine! Keep the stupid virgin. I prefer my women to know what they’re doing, anyway.”

“Thank you,” Tyrion simply said, nodding at Mace and walking off to join an amused looking man at a nearby table.

Mace only grunted and quickly started talking about politics again with his companions, obviously wishing to steer the conversation away from his failure. As much as Stannis wanted to stay and listen in on the political machinations, Stannis needed to stay focused on his mission. It was nearly midnight, and he would need to start bidding soon.

Tyrion’s way of stopping Mace from bidding on Sansa gave Stannis an idea. He decided to join Tyrion and his grinning companion at their table. He just hoped his movements wouldn’t draw too much attention.

Thankfully another entertainer took the stage just as Stannis stood up, and all eyes turned to observe the girl on the stage. Stannis was momentarily distracted by the girl’s remarkable ability to bend like a pretzel, but he shook his head to clear it and headed straight for Tyrion’s table. He took a seat without asking permission and immediately started glaring at the dwarf of Casterly Rock Inc.

“Ah! Stannis! What can I do for you?” Tyrion exclaimed congenially, “have you met Bronn? No? Bronn, Stannis, Stannis, Bronn.”

Stannis rolled his eyes internally at the useless introduction. Tyrion hadn’t even mentioned any last names. Although that might just be part of the etiquette of the establishment they were currently at.

“Do not bid on Alayne Stone,” Stannis bit out, not even sparing Bronn a nod of acknowledgment.

“Whyever not?” Tyrion appeared a little taken aback, though he was recovering quickly from his surprise.

“Because I’ll contact your father and tell him what you’re spending the family fortune on if you do,” Stannis explained in a low growl, still glaring angrily at Tyrion.

“You’re going to _tell on me?_ ” Tyrion asked incredulously, as if he, himself, hadn’t just threatened to do the very same thing to Mace Tyrell less than ten minutes ago. Tyrion might not be married, but Stannis knew for a fact that Tywin Lannister did not approve of Tyrion’s whoring, wasteful lifestyle. He’d lost count of how many times Stannis had heard Tywin complain about his useless offspring at one function or another.

“Yes,” Stannis said stubbornly, crossing his arms and scowling at Tyrion.

Tyrion gave Stannis a long calculating look. “Am I right to assume that you intend to bid on her yourself?” he asked at last.

Stannis clenched his jaw and tensed just about every muscle in his body. He felt a vein start throbbing on his forehead. Instead of dignifying Tyrion’s question with an answer he simply narrowed his eyes at the dwarf. It was none of Tyrion’s business.

Tyrion seemed oddly relieved by Stannis’ non-verbal, threatening response. “So you’ve realised she’s Ned’s girl, too?”

Stannis felt the tension drain from his body as rapidly as the air from a balloon. He gaped at Tyrion for a second, but quickly closed his mouth when he realised what he was doing.

“I was going to attempt to help her, but I suppose she might be more inclined to accept help from you. The Starks and the Baratheons have always been much closer than the Starks and the Lannisters are ever likely to be. Well, I suppose I should say ‘Stark’, not ‘Starks’ as there’s only one Stark left now.” 

Tyrion lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Bronn was no longer smiling, and Stannis had fixed a scowl back on his features, though he was no longer glaring. 

“If you need any extra money, I’ll be happy to pitch in,” Tyrion offered after a while.

This reminded Stannis that he still needed to place his first bid. He pulled out the tablet and started looking for the right page. He wondered where the bidding stood and tried to place an appropriate bid. He was immediately asked to up the bid or cancel. He had to up the bid to a frankly ridiculous amount before the bid was accepted. Not a minute went by before the tablet vibrated and alerted him to the fact that he had been outbid, offering him the option to offer more or bow out. Stannis watched the clock anxiously as he upped his bid again and again, noticing that time was running out. Two seconds before midnight Stannis tripled the amount from his last bid, wanting to make absolutely sure that he would win. It was the largest amount he had ever paid for _anything,_ his apartment in King’s Landing included.

Tyrion and Bronn had been sipping their respective drinks the whole time, uncharacteristically silent, observing Stannis seriously.

Five nerve-racking minutes went by while Stannis waited to find out whether he’d won Sansa or not. He felt Tyrion’s eyes on him, but did not take his own eyes off the screen in front of him, clutching the device tightly and _hoping._ (Stannis never prayed. Not after what happened to his parents.)

Finally a notification appeared on the screen. It informed Stannis that an _obscene_ amount of money would be transferred from his account, and that a member of staff would be along shortly to escort him to his prize. Stannis let out the breath that he had been holding, sighing in relief.

“You won?” Tyrion asked, brightening at the idea.

Stannis nodded curtly and started to discreetly look around for the mysterious member of staff who was supposed to collect him.

“What’s your plan? How do you intend to smuggle her out?” Tyrion asked in an undertone, carefully looking around to check whether anyone was listening.

Stannis gave Tyrion a startled look. Smuggle her out? Surely such a thing would not be possible at this point? Stannis had intended to talk to the girl and gather useful information that he could bring to Robert. Getting Sansa free would then be Robert’s problem. He told Tyrion as much.

“Are you insane?” Tyrion hissed, “Baelish will _know_ if you don’t behave the way he expects a man to behave after paying such a sum for a girl. Do you honestly think you won’t be monitored in some way? At the very least he’ll have the girl examined after the fact to see if she’s performed her _’duty’_. If he suspects foul play he’ll hide her away and you will never be able to get her free.”

Stannis paled. He hadn’t considered that. _Why_ hadn’t he considered that? He had been so focused on preventing any other man from winning the time alone with her that he hadn’t really thought beyond that. It was very unlike him to be so short-sighted, but he just hadn’t had enough _time._

“Well, what were you going to do?” Stannis asked, irritated and a little embarrassed at his lack of foresight.

“I’m not entirely sure. Littlefinger will probably make certain to put her in the most secure room, so my vague ideas of tying the sheets together into a rope and climbing out the window will probably not work,” Tyrion said sarcastically.

Before Stannis had a chance to retort, the pretty girl who had been standing next to Baelish when Stannis had spoken with him earlier in the evening walked up to him. “Please, sir. I’m to show you to your room for the night.” She spoke politely, and her tone was deferential and subdued. Stannis renewed his vow to shut this establishment down. Baelish would not be allowed to continue to treat people this way. It was not _just._

As the girl led Stannis up three flights of stairs, down a corridor that would not have been out of place in an opulent palace, and up to a sturdy wooden door, Stannis’ heart started to beat faster and faster. His brain was not coming up with any brilliant escape plans, and his skin started to feel very clammy and uncomfortable. How could he be expected to come up with an escape plan when he had no information to work with? He did not know the layout of the room he was being led to, he did not know whether the room would be guarded, he did not know if they would be watched or if someone would be listening to their conversation… 

_Seven hells, how had he become mixed up in this situation?_

Before his guide left him, she loudly reminded him that his six hours would start ticking away now, but then she looked around the empty corridor, clearly nervous and fearful, and beckoned for Stannis to lean towards her so that she could whisper something to him.

“Alayne asked me to give you a message before you go in there. She said to tell you that you’re being watched and to _play along_.” The girl took a step back and disappeared behind a corner before Stannis was able to stop her and question her further.

Stannis’ insides had frozen at the news that the room was under surveillance. That would make any escape attempt completely impossible! It would even make it very difficult to have a frank discussion with Sansa. If the room was watched it might very well be bugged as well. 

And what on earth had Sansa meant by asking him to play along?

Stannis blew out a frustrated breath, squared his shoulders, and reached for the door handle. He’d just have to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Sansa sings is of course the song Jessica Rabbit sings in _Who Framed Roger Rabbit?_ It's a very sexy song, and I encourage you to look it up if you haven't seen the scene.


	2. Playing along

Sansa’s heart had almost stopped when she had seen Stannis Baratheon in the crowd watching her sing. The look in his eyes told her that he had recognised her, too. He wasn’t looking at her the way the other men were; with greed and lust. Instead he looked sort of fierce and determined, his jaw clenched just the way she remembered from the times she had seen him growing up. 

He always looked like he was _angry_ at the world.

She finished her song and fled the stage as gracefully as she could. Petyr met her on the other side of the curtains, holding his arms out for a hug. She stepped into the circle of his arms automatically, knowing that no good ever came of resisting. Should she tell him that she had seen Stannis and that she thought he had recognised her?

“You were _spectacular,_ ” he crooned in her ear, moving a hand so that he could take hold of her chin and move her face towards his. He kissed her chastely on the lips, and she patiently waited for him to finish.

“Thank you, Petyr,” she whispered when he let her go. She decided not to tell Petyr about Stannis. Maybe he would tell his brother that he’d seen her? Maybe Robert would come looking for her and help her get away from Petyr at long last? Robert had been her father’s best friend and he was her godfather. Surely he’d want to help her if he knew she was alive?

“The highest bid for you is already a larger sum than all the other bids put together!” Petyr told her gleefully, poking at a tablet he had pulled from somewhere. His face was lit up the way it always lit up when he was about to make a big profit.

“That’s nice,” Sansa said quietly, not really sure what she was supposed to say.

Perhaps Sansa shouldn’t have been surprised when Petyr had approached her and told her that he was going to put her on the List the next time he held an auction. When she had moved past the initial shock she had realised that Petyr had been training her to be on it ever since he saved her from the massacre at her family’s house.

He was always teaching her how to behave in order to charm and seduce men. How to speak, how to move, how to look up at a man through lowered lashes and run her fingers down his arm. At first he had pretended that he wanted to help her flirt with boys she was interested in, but when her lessons with him started to include kissing and touching, she had understood that he really wanted her to flirt with and seduce _him._ Though he never seemed interested in taking things any further than kisses and relatively harmless touches.

 _“You’re far too precious for someone like me,”_ he would often sigh into her ear after he kissed her, a strange look of longing in his grey-green eyes.

Yeah. Too precious a _commodity._

“Now remember, I’m putting you in the ‘room with the view’, so I’ll make sure that whoever wins you won’t hurt you. If he tries, I’ll send someone to take care of the problem,” Petyr said, suddenly all business.

Sansa had often accompanied Petyr when he threw one of his events, though she had always stayed hidden behind the scenes, so she knew all about the ‘room with the view’. It was a room with spy-holes in strategic places, and Petyr tended to put his most valuable girls in there so that he could check in on them periodically and make sure his prized possessions were not coming to any harm. Sansa had peeked once for a short moment and what she had seen had made her blush to the roots of her hair.

 _”Why not just put hidden cameras in there?”_ she had asked him once, curious why he would bother with physically walking to the room and looking through a spy-hole rather than just setting up a live feed to a computer somewhere.

 _”The men who come to my events pay for a_ discreet _service. Many of them are utterly paranoid and would find recording equipment within five minutes. And then I’d be out of business. In any case, it’s never prudent to record anything that is not - as it were - ‘legal’ in the strictest sense… It could just as easily come back to haunt me as it could the people in the recording.”_ Petyr had patiently explained, smirking at her in his ‘oh, aren’t I so very clever?’ way.

Sansa was pulled from her memory by the present day Petyr. He was talking to her and she was supposed to listen.

“As long as you do as I instructed I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Men are easily led around by their cocks, and if you take charge right away you will be able to dictate what happens. If the man is very unpleasant you can use the sleeping powder as soon as he’s got his money’s worth. Most men won’t know the difference, anyway. On the whole we’re rather unfortunately prone to nodding off after we come,” Petyr continued, looking at her as if they were co-conspirators.

Sansa knew that Petyr expected her to lose her virginity tonight. He had heavily implied that if she made him a sufficient pile of money in doing so, he wouldn’t put her on the List again. Sansa was also relatively certain that once she was no longer a virgin, Petyr would stop feeling that she was too precious for the likes of him.

She’d go from being his ward to being his mistress.

How had she become so trapped?

At first she had thought Petyr, the widowed husband of her Aunt Lysa, was her savior. She had woken up with him watching over her, comfortable in an unfamiliar bed. He had explained that he had received word of what was to happen, stolen her as she slept, switching her out for a nameless girl from the city morgue. Apparently the assassins that had shot her family as they slept had not bothered to check that the redhead in Sansa’s bed was alive before they started shooting.

 _”Why didn’t you rescue the others, too?”_ she had sobbed as he held her tenderly, stroking her hair as she soaked the front of his silk shirt.

 _”I only had the time and resources to save you, sweetling,”_ he had explained, “I had to call in countless favours to make sure the official documents stated that it was you and not a nameless nobody that they found in your bed. I couldn’t have pulled it off for more than one person.”

Sansa had long ago seen through that particular half-truth. Any decent person would have called the cops if they had been forewarned of a conspiracy to murder an entire family! Petyr had only saved her because she was the only Stark he had any use for. He wanted her, and he had enjoyed keeping her close and protected from all outside influences; making sure she was dependent on him for _everything._ He had used the fact that her family’s killers might recognise her and come for her if she ever left his ‘protection’ to frighten her and keep her compliant.

He had taken her to the Eyrie, far away from anyone else who might have been able to help her, given her a false identity and presented her as his ward. No one in the Eyrie recognised her, as her Aunt Lysa had passed away the previous year, and no one was looking for her, anyway. Everyone thought she was dead along with the rest of her family. Petyr said that it was for the best.

It had taken Sansa a long time to move past her grief, and an even longer time to understand that Petyr was not her friend and that she should not feel safe with him. She should have understood that as soon as he had first kissed her, but she had been naive and a little flattered by the attention. And it had not been as if she suffered any ill treatment. Petyr made sure she had anything and everything she wanted. She had all her favourite treats - as many lemon cakes as she could possibly eat - all the most fashionable clothes and cosmetics, as well as all the other little things a teenage girl could ever need or want. She even had boys to flirt with, though Petyr made sure that she was never alone with a boy. By the time she had started to feel ill at ease about Petyr, she was in too deep. She had no friends that were outside Petyr’s influence. She had no money of her own. She had no means of communication that were not monitored by Petyr, and absolutely no way of escape.

Her mockingbird had sung her a pretty song and lured her into a gilded cage, and she had been too _stupid_ to notice the bars before it was much, much too late.

“Yes, Petyr. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Sansa said softly, noticing that Petyr was waiting for a response.

Petyr seemed pleased by her words. His face looked less businesslike now, almost tender. He walked over to a nearby table and picked up a large white box that Sansa hadn’t noticed before.

“Wear this and no man will be able to resist you. He may think you are there to serve him, but you will make him your slave. Do you understand?” Petyr spoke with a quiet intensity that made Sansa a little uneasy. She accepted the box, glad of the opportunity to look at something that was not Petyr’s smirking face, and equally relieved to have something to do with her hands. She opened the box to reveal a set of bridal lingerie and a matching silk robe. Sansa had never seen so much ivory silk and lace in one place.

“Will you be able to put it on yourself, or would you like me to send Jeyne to help you? The corselette might be a bit tricky… and have you ever worn stockings with those kinds of fastenings before?” Petyr was all business again, and Sansa was struck by the sheer _strangeness_ of her circumstances.

Sansa didn’t think she would really need any help, but she accepted Petyr’s offer of Jeyne’s help nonetheless. Sansa wouldn’t mind some company as she got ready, and Jeyne might have some good advice for her. Anyway, she’d be doing Jeyne a favour. While she was with Sansa she would be away from Petyr and the men at the party.

“I’ll call the room once the results from the auction are in. Jeyne can fetch the lucky man for you once you’re dressed.”

Sansa recognised a dismissal when she heard it. She nodded meekly and hurried upstairs to find the room with the view. Once there, she decided to get undressed while she waited for Jeyne, and she was already pulling on the complicated set of lingerie when Jeyne arrived.

“You looked amazing on the stage!” Jeyne gushed as she came over to help Sansa fasten the corselette.

“Really? I was so nervous! I felt like I was completely off-key the whole time,” Sansa confessed, grateful for Jeyne’s help with the fiddly hooks. Had she been by herself she would have had to fasten them at the front and then somehow turn the corselette around again.

“No, you sounded perfect. I thought some of the men at the front were going to start fighting each other to get closer to the stage,” Jeyne giggled.

They chatted about inconsequential things for a while, just sitting on the bed as if nothing were more natural than lounging around in bridal lingerie and tiny scraps of lace and silk, talking about films and what they wanted for breakfast tomorrow.

Sansa got more antsy when midnight approached, and she finally worked up the courage to ask Jeyne the question that had been on her mind since Petyr announced that she was going on the List tonight.

“Does it hurt?” Sansa asked and gave Jeyne a meaningful look.

“Losing your virginity?” Jeyne sighed, “it depends on the guy you’re with, really.”

“Petyr said that I should try to make the man ‘engage in a lot of foreplay’ and that if he refused I should offer to let him watch as I used a vibe on myself,” Sansa said, feeling herself blush violently. No matter how often Petyr talked to her about sex, and no matter how much she heard and saw, she still couldn’t seem to stop blushing over it all.

“Well… that’s not bad advice. You’re going to want to be really turned on before the guy tries to stick anything inside of you. If you’re properly wet and everything then it really shouldn’t hurt too much. My first time was pretty awful because I was a nervous wreck and drier than Dorne, but some of the other girls have told me that it doesn’t have to be like that,” Jeyne answered thoughtfully, not even blushing a little bit.

“But won’t the guy expect me to be in pain?” Sansa asked worriedly.

“Maybe. But he’ll probably mostly expect you to be really tight.”

Sansa was about to ask Jeyne to elaborate when the phone suddenly rang. Jeyne walked towards the antique rotary phone and picked up the golden handle. Sansa still remembered how bemused she had been the first time she had seen the old-fashioned phones that Petyr used in this place. He forbade all cellphones, and both the employees and the guests were all obliged to leave their cells at the door when they came to Petyr’s events. She had never seen a rotary phone outside of films before she came to this building. Sansa listened as Jeyne took the call. It was a very short conversation; Jeyne said hello, listened for a few beats, told the person on the other end of the line that she’d be right down, and hung up.

“Well?” Sansa’s heart was pounding. She was both desperately curious and absolutely terrified at the prospect of learning the identity of the man who would be taking her virginity.

“His name is Stannis Baratheon and apparently he paid a king’s ransom for you,” Jeyne said, an eyebrow raised.

Now Sansa _knew_ that Stannis had recognised her. She was absolutely certain that Stannis would not have bid on her because he wanted her body. He was not that kind of man. Sansa barely knew him, but she knew enough to know that. He had to be trying to help her! She was _sure_ of it.

“You should probably go fetch him, then,” Sansa said faintly, thinking furiously, “and please give him a message from me…”

***

Stannis was still trying to puzzle out what Sansa had meant by her mysterious message when he entered the room that was apparently being watched. The first thing he noticed was the soft music in the background. It was instrumental and inoffensive. He’d stop hearing it after a while, he knew. He closed the door behind him and looked towards the ceiling, attempting to spot electronic surveillance equipment. He could not see anything suspicious on the ceiling, so he started to look at the walls and the opulent, dark wooden furniture. When his eyes swept over the huge bed he became distracted, however.

Sansa was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed a white silk robe that was open and hanging enticingly off one shoulder. The robe did absolutely nothing to hide the intricate, lacy white lingerie that Sansa wore underneath. She looked just as a bride would on her wedding night, complete with silk stockings, a powder-blue garter with a white bow, and a very becoming pink blush. The backdrop of the rich, decadent surroundings enhanced the sight of her further, the royal blues and golds of the room’s colour scheme seemingly coordinated to make her look even more enchanting. The soothing music he had been all set to forget was the final touch.

After an eternity of staring at the girl, Stannis realised that his mouth was hanging open, and he hurried to close it. To his horror he felt himself redden with embarrassment like a schoolboy, and to his everlasting shame he had to start thinking of every humiliating thing Robert had ever said to him in order to prevent his trousers from becoming uncomfortably tight.

 _Pull yourself together, man!_ he shouted at himself inside the privacy of his head.

He had just managed to seize control of himself when Sansa rose from the bed - drawing attention to how very long and shapely her legs were - and started to walk towards him. The way she moved was mesmerising, her hips swaying gently, one foot going very deliberately in front of the other with each step she took. Her delicate feet were encased in pretty, high-heeled satin slippers of the kind that Stannis had always been half convinced only existed in old films.

“Sa -” he began to say her name but was immediately shushed, Sansa’s index finger coming to rest lightly on his lower lip.

“Sssh, you don’t have to say anything. I know exactly what you want,” she said in a low, breathy whisper.

Stannis felt all at once affronted, bewildered and uncomfortably aroused. He did not _want_ to be aroused, but Sansa was unquestionably beautiful, she was standing very close, and her scent was something fresh, sweet and citrusy that he could not get enough of.

He cleared his throat, took a pointed step back from her, and made a halfhearted attempt at glaring at her, his usual scowl coming to his rescue.

Sansa’s seductress act wavered and she widened her eyes, giving him a desperate, meaningful look.

He furrowed his brow, understanding that he was missing something, but unsure what it was.

“Oh, are you shy?” she said coyly, walking right back into his personal space, still giving him a look that was completely at odds with her tone of voice. She reached for his tie and tugged on it, clearly indicating that she wanted him to lean down. He resisted, feeling irritated and confused, but her eyes became pleading, and when that happened he had no choice but to relent. With his face so close to hers, he was sure she’d be able to feel how hot with embarrassment his flushed cheeks were.

Sansa started to caress his stubbled neck and she moved her lips to hover so close to one of his ears that she was almost kissing the lobe.

“Please play along, Stannis. Petyr is watching. Once we’re under the covers we can talk properly.”

The whisper was so quiet, and her breath was so hot on his skin, that he almost missed what she said. But he understood what was going on now, and that was a step in the right direction. Sansa clearly knew that he was here to help her, and she wanted to discuss it with him. In order to have that discussion they would have to retreat under the bed covers. It seemed straightforward enough, but to get under the covers they would apparently be required act out some sort of mummer’s farce for Littlefinger’s benefit.

But how in the seven hells was he supposed to pretend that he was fine and dandy with Sansa Stark, _a teenager_ , seducing him to her bed? With Littlefinger watching him? It was abhorrent! He felt himself tense up at the very idea, his jaw clenching shut and his teeth starting to grind together in frustration.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing in and out. He needed to talk to Sansa. They were being observed. If they got under the covers together they might be able to converse without being discovered. It was the only workable plan they had. He would simply have to grit his teeth and ‘play along’ as Sansa asked.

Sansa had continued to stroke his neck and jaw, and he tried to relax his jaw muscles as her fingertips ghosted over his skin. He opened his eyes and met her anxious blue gaze, giving her a determined look and a tiny nod. The relief in her eyes was obvious for a second, but then it was gone; replaced by her surprisingly effective ‘seductress’ look. Stannis swallowed thickly at the sight of it.

What had he just agreed to?

Sansa was suddenly pressing the full length of her body against his, her arms winding around his neck, her lips seeking his. She gave him a soft, chaste kiss which was over much too soon, or maybe not quickly enough...

She started to kiss her way down his neck, probably getting lipstick on his shirt collar, and she tugged discreetly on one of his hands, bringing his attention to the fact that his arms were hanging limply by his sides. He brought his hands stiffly to her waist, holding her gingerly, afraid to grasp her too tightly. He wasn’t sure what else to do, so he just kept still and tried to focus on every foul, awful memory he could dredge up. He would not get an erection, he would not get an erection, he would _not._

Sansa started to lick and suck at a sensitive spot on the side of his neck, and he reflexively tightened his hold on her waist, an embarrassing sort of whine escaping his throat.

His ex-wife had never done anything like _that_ with her tongue.

“Like that, do you?” Sansa flirted, bringing a hand up to his hair, stroking the back of his head pleasantly. She pretended to kiss his ear after that, but whispered again instead.

“Undress me or something!” she hissed, obviously a little exasperated.

Stannis felt himself redden further. It was humiliating to be told in so many words that he wasn't convincing enough by a girl who hadn't even done this before. He wanted to tell her that he knew how to handle a woman, thank you, but that he was just uncomfortable with handling _her._ He supposed this was where he had to grit his teeth and do what needed to be done.

He took a deep breath, scowled at Sansa and hurriedly pushed her silk robe off the one shoulder it was still clinging to. It slithered to the floor with a soft swooshing noise. Sansa smiled at him encouragingly and _winked_ at him.

Stannis had brought his hands back to rest uselessly at his sides, and Sansa used the opportunity to push his suit jacket off his shoulders.

"You're certainly in good shape," she said admiringly as she stroked his arms from his shoulders to his elbows, feeling his tense muscles through the crisp material of his shirt.

"Er..." he said intelligently, making her smile widely and her eyes sparkle. This annoyed him terribly. He hated being laughed at. He decided to bring his hands back to her waist, tightening his hold a little and shooting her a warning look.

Sansa immediately tried to look more serious, but her eyes were still sparkling. She pressed herself against him again, continuously stroking his arms gently. It was very distracting.

"I bet you could lift me up without even breaking a sweat," she said, still in that flattering, admiring tone of voice. Stannis hated flattery and falseness, but she sounded absolutely genuine. He was not accustomed to having his ego stroked as he discouraged such behaviour in every person around him with every fibre of his being, so he didn't really know how to react to Sansa's attention. Knowing that it was all an act added to his confusion. Was she sincerely admiring him, or was it all made up?

 _Stupid._ Of course she was acting. She was just disturbingly good at it.

Now she was giving him meaningful looks again. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed 'what?' at her. She rolled her eyes and mouthed 'pick me up' at him in return. Stannis glared at her, but he was mostly irritated with himself for not understanding the obvious hint she had given him because he had been too busy wondering if she really thought he was powerfully built.

Without saying anything, Stannis bent at his knees and scooped Sansa up into his arms as if she were truly a bride; not just wearing bridal lingerie. Her slippers fell off, and she made a delighted sound that he probably should not have enjoyed hearing. All he needed now was a threshold to walk across. He took a few long steps and dumped her on the bed quickly, cursing himself for his idiotic flight of fancy.

Sansa was giggling and posing herself very deliberately on the bedspread, showing herself off to her best advantage. Stannis tried to look at her face, ignoring the way her breasts were thrust forward and how her hips were angled to emphasise her tiny waist. Looking at her face wasn't much better. She had arranged her lips into a seductive pout and she was looking up at him through half-lowered lashes, a flattering pink tinge colouring her cheeks.

 _It's an act. Just an act._ She'd never look at him like that otherwise. And he wouldn't want her to. _Really._

"Won't you join me?" she asked in her breathy whisper when he had spent too long just staring at her, mute and red-faced.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling very stiff and awkward. He had barely been sitting for a second when she rose to her knees and came up behind him, pressing her chest against the back of his head and letting her arms encircle him, keeping him from leaning away.

Her breasts felt very warm and soft where they weren't covered by the lace of her lingerie, and he almost choked on a moan that he wouldn't allow himself to let out. One of her hands came up to stroke the tense muscles of his jaw and his neck.

"You're so tense... would you like a neck massage?" she offered, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his neck. His shirt collar was probably completely ruined with lipstick marks at this point, he thought with an internal sigh. His housekeeper would probably die of shock when she did his laundry.

She didn't wait for an answer. Instead she loosened his tie and undid the top few buttons of his shirt to give herself better access. Stannis bit the inside of his cheek and reminded himself that he was supposed to play along and not slap her hands away as if she were some sort of annoying pest. 

When she started rubbing his neck in a very pleasant and relaxing way - or it would have been relaxing if there was any earthly way for him to relax in his current situation - he had to ball his hands into fists and take several calming breaths. As much as he didn’t want it to happen, his cock was becoming half-erect, her touch and physical _closeness_ counteracting all of his tricks to keep himself at ease.

Sansa kept kneading the hard, knotted muscles of his neck, working patiently and methodically for at least half an hour until Stannis unclenched despite himself. He didn't really feel at ease, but the tension was draining from his stiff muscles as if by magic. It felt rather unfortunately wonderful.

"There, isn't that better?" Sansa asked softly, her touches becoming caresses that made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I have some wonderful oils if you want me to do your back, too?"

Stannis bit back a groan at the idea. He would not be able to keep himself from getting fully hard if she slathered him in oil and rubbed his back. He had a good amount of self control but he was not inhuman, no matter what his brothers might say. 

No, this mummery would come to an end now.

"Perhaps later. I think it's time we got to the point," he growled. If someone was watching, he hopefully came off as impatient due to arousal rather than irritation.

He gritted his teeth and started taking his tie off. No one would believe it if they went under the covers with all their clothes still on. After his tie was off, he finished unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled his shoes and socks off before standing up to shrug his shirt off too, and unbuckle his belt. He made the mistake of looking at Sansa as he pulled the leather through the buckle, and what he saw tested him like nothing else. She was looking at him, transfixed and wide-eyed, worrying at her bottom lip and blushing deeply.

His cock stirred at the sight, twitching hopefully against the front of his trousers. He closed his eyes and visualised Littlefinger's face, probably watching him at this very moment, smirking in that insufferable way of his. The idea cooled his hideously inappropriate ardour immediately. Just to make sure, he also reminded himself that Sansa was _acting._ He ground his teeth together without really meaning to, and hurried to take off his trousers, taking care not to look at Sansa as he did.

She seemed to have understood what he wanted, and had stood up in order to turn down the bed, but she did not get under the covers when she was done. Hoping to lead by example, Stannis hurried to get underneath them, feeling awfully exposed in just his underwear. He gave her a questioning, bewildered look when she only sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted her long hair, exposing her back to him.

“Could you help me with the fastenings?” she asked shyly.

 _No!_ he screamed inside his head. He could not undress her more than he already had. He could not see her wearing any less than she was already wearing. It would make it _completely_ impossible to keep his anatomy under control. It was rebelling enough already as it was!

“I want you to wear it,” he growled, again hoping that he was coming off as too impatient with arousal to wait for her to take off her underwear. His embarrassed flush was probably broadcasting the truth, but the flush might be explained by arousal, too.

“I’ll at least have to take off my stockings, Mr. Impatient,” Sansa flirted, a note of amusement in her voice.

He didn’t argue. His throat had dried up at the sight of her getting up from the bed and bending over to fiddle with the suspenders that were keeping her stocking up. Once they were no longer attached to the lace at the top of her silk stockings, she slowly pushed the blue garter down the length of her thigh, over her knee, letting it drop to the floor. Just as slowly she started to push the stockings down, her posture giving him a rather overwhelming view of her cleavage and her legs, her long red hair falling over one shoulder in soft, tousled waves, and the graceful column of her neck exposed on the other side.

Fuck. He was suddenly harder than he had ever been in his life, and none of his most awful memories, or even imaginary pictures of Littlefinger’s smirking face, were working to make his erection go away. He was very thankful for the heavy covers, as they did a very adequate job of hiding his shame, but he felt like the worst human being on the planet. This was a highly serious situation, and Sansa was _trusting_ him to help her. Not ogle her and treat her the way any of the other men downstairs would have. He was _scum._ Awful, disgusting _scum._


	3. Acting lessons

Sansa got under the covers with him wearing only her corselette and her lacy white panties. His heart was pounding as if he had just run up ten flights of stairs, and he was having breathing difficulties. He kept trying to take deep calming breaths, only to immediately give up and take in succession of quick, shallow gulps of air that made him feel a little dizzy instead. He was lying on his back, and he realised that if she decided to cuddle up to him like she would be expected to do in this situation, she might find out about his shameful physical response to her. He immediately raised his knees up to make it harder for her to do something like throw a leg across his body. Thankfully, she did not seem to be getting ready to do any such thing. She was lying on her side, very close by him but not quite touching. She brought her lips close to his ear, and started stroking his bare chest where the covers didn’t reach.

“We can whisper to each other for a little while, but then you’re going to have to pretend to use your hand to get me off,” Sansa whispered straight into his ear so that it was unlikely that anyone could have overheard even if they had been standing next to the bed. She didn’t give him a chance to respond to her words, but Stannis wasn’t sure that he could have said anything as he was in shock. _He’d have to do what with his hand now?_

“Thank you for doing this, Stannis. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I heard I’d be spending the night with someone my father trusted and respected when he was alive. How did you find me? Does Robert know I’m alive, too? Switch positions with me so that you can whisper into my ear.” Sansa sounded grateful and trusting, but also very eager to hear his response. She was already lying down on her back, waiting for him to get on his side and whisper his reply to her. He did as she asked, careful to keep the lower half of his body well away from her, wishing that the agonising guilt he was feeling would make his idiotic body behave. He wasn’t sure Ned would trust and respect him if he could see him now.

He started by explaining why Robert usually came to these events, and why he had been obliged to take his brother’s place. He went on to tell her what Baelish had said about a new girl on his list, and how Stannis had been curious enough to look up her photograph. “I recognised you straight away and I knew I had to do something. Robert is going to have a tantrum when he finds out Baelish has been hiding you away. Robert is your godfather, by rights he should have been the one taking care of you.”

As Stannis whispered, Sansa had surreptitiously tugged on his hand, indicating with a meaningful look that he should stroke her like she had been stroking him. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her anywhere below her neck, but managed to awkwardly comb his fingers through her hair and stroke her soft cheek a few times. To an outside observer it hopefully looked like he was just whispering sweet nothings into her ear. He’d never done anything like that in his life, but he gathered it was acceptable bedroom behaviour.

Stannis was almost startled when Sansa sighed theatrically and spoke in a normal tone of voice instead of whispering. She acted like she was answering something he had whispered to her.

“Of course, that’s a lovely idea. But could you touch me first? Please? I’ve always wondered what it’s like…” Sansa trailed off, her tone of voice all at once deferential, curious and a little needy. Hearing her speak like that, even though he _knew_ she was acting, was making him feel foolish and eager to do anything she asked. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and remind himself of Littlefinger’s face again.

Stannis could feel his cheeks burning as he reached down to place a hand in the general vicinity of where he’d need to place it if he was actually going to… do anything. He couldn’t imagine that anyone could be watching them closely enough to see where exactly his hand was resting under the covers. The most anyone would be able to see was his shoulder, and he tried to move his hand around a little on her - _Gods_ \- very soft thigh, so that his shoulder wouldn’t appear completely still.

“This is very strange,” Stannis whispered to Sansa, feeling very foolish and awkward about the situation he found himself in. “Are you sure we’re being watched?”

“Mm, yes...” Sansa moaned, cleverly acting as if he were pleasuring her and giving him an answer at the same time.

“Are there cameras?” he questioned her, trying to ignore how his cock had responded to the sound of her moan. The pressure of his erection was become more difficult to ignore by the second, and his hips were longing to shift him the short distance required to bring him into contact with a warm, bare, and _soft_ thigh.

Sansa was moving her head from side to side, pretending to thrash about in pleasure. It was a clear ‘no’. Stannis breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was no danger of this being recorded, then.

“A two-way mirror? Peep holes?” Stannis muttered, guessing how anyone might be observing them without a camera.

“Yes! Oh, please! That second thing you did, could you do that again?” Sansa gasped out, arching her back a little and moaning some more. Stannis had never seen a woman act like that outside of an adult film. Selyse had been much less… vocal. But of course, Sansa was acting. She had that in common with the stars of said films.

If he was interpreting Sansa’s words correctly, she had been telling him that they were being observed through peep holes.

“What about bugs?” he asked, trying to keep focused.

“No! Please don’t stop!” Sansa cried out, the needy desperation in her voice disturbingly realistic. 

She was certainly making it sound like he was very good at all this. He was rather grateful for it, despite himself. It was bad enough that Littlefinger was observing him in such a private situation, it would be even worse if it appeared that he was rubbish in bed, too.

Her cry had indicated that they were not being electronically bugged, so Stannis relaxed a little more. No cameras or bugs, just peep holes. He could work with that. It was very unlikely that anyone at a peep hole would be able to hear their whispered conversation, and they were unlikely to have a very accurate view of what was happening.

“Do you think Baelish will keep watch the whole night?” Stannis asked, guessing that Littlefinger would not have the patience for such a venture.

“Mmm, I’m not sure I can - _oh!_ \- it’s so overwhelming…” Sansa moaned and gasped, writhing around next to him as if he were doing something truly spectacular with his hand. Her answer was unclear, but he thought she might mean that she didn’t know for how long Baelish was likely to watch.

She turned to face him, their noses bumping against each other. “Get on top of me,” she whispered quickly before going back to moaning.

Stannis blanched. If he did as she asked she would definitely feel the inappropriate hard-on he was sporting. He tried to think of a way to lie on top of a woman without his groin coming into contact with any part of her, but no sudden burst of inspiration struck. Except… what if he just hovered over her, supporting himself on his knees and elbows without actually pressing himself against her? That might work! He started to breathe again, realising that he’d been holding his breath while he had been thinking his way out of his _problem._

He carefully moved himself into position, kneeling between her parted thighs and making sure that the part of his body that was screaming for relief did not even brush up against her for a fraction of a second.

Sansa gazed up at him, a slightly bemused look in her eyes. “Try to make this convincing, I’ve never done this before, so you’re going to have to take the lead,” she whispered, her cheeks darkening from her pink glow to an embarrassed red.

Stannis swallowed nervously and nodded at Sansa, silently agreeing that he would do his best even though he was starting to wonder if all of this was really worth the trouble. But the thought had barely finished crossing his mind when Shireen’s face appeared behind his eyelids. If his daughter was trapped in Littlefinger’s clutches, he would rather a man she trusted join her in some ridiculous play-acting than have her be forced to service a total stranger. He gritted his teeth for a moment to get himself under control, and then he started to speak in a low, soothing voice.

“Just relax, this shouldn’t hurt…” he said, avoiding eye-contact with Sansa and trying to will himself to stop blushing like a inexperienced boy, and stop being turned on, too, while he was at it. He continued along the same lines for a little while, telling her to relax, asking her to spread her thighs a little further, explaining that it wouldn’t hurt if she just focused on accepting him, and promising that he could make her feel good.

When he couldn’t think of any more stupid nonsense to say, he reached down with one hand as if to guide himself inside of her. What he actually did was grab his erection and stroke it a few times; the relief of it so intense that it made him let out a very convincing groan of pleasure. Sansa immediately played along and let out a drawn out moan, making her breath hitch a few times as if she were experiencing an intense mixture of pleasure and pain.

Stannis clenched his jaw and forced himself to let go of his cock and bring his arm back up to help support his weight. He stayed still for a moment and solicitously asked Sansa if she was all right.

“Yes, I think so,” she said breathlessly, a slight tremor in her voice. _How was she so good at acting this out?_ He was unbearably aware of the fact that his cock was definitely not buried inside of her at the moment, and yet he almost believed her.

Feeling completely ridiculous, Stannis started to rock backwards and forwards on his knees, simulating the act that one part of him was much too keen to actually try. Stannis knew that he would usually be making embarrassing grunting noises at this point, but it was tempting to keep silent and pretend that he would have been able to keep his cool under the circumstances. Sansa was making perfectly timed little noises and gasps, however, and he realised it would probably make her look bad if he didn’t at least moan or _something._ He settled for letting out particularly loud breaths whenever he moved forwards.

A few minutes of this mummery felt like an eternity to Stannis. He was very torn. Should he pretend to finish soon so that this humiliating experience could come to an end, or should he try to make it appear as if he had a decent amount of stamina? The idea of Littlefinger thinking that he couldn’t last in bed chafed, and it made Stannis ignore his embarrassment and keep going. A few more minutes passed by, and Stannis knew that if he was actually inside a virgin he would probably have finished by now. He remembered how tight Selyse had been their first time, it had been surprising and overwhelming and he had almost climaxed as soon as he’d managed to get himself buried to the hilt.

When his shoulders started burning with the strain of holding most of his weight up he decided to ‘finish’. He shot Sansa an apologetic look, risking a glance at her face to do so, but she had her eyes closed and her lips were curled into a small smile as she hummed and moaned convincingly.

“I’m close,” he whispered hoarsely, to warn her that he was going to pretend to come. Feeling very stupid, he sped up his movements, trying to emulate the way he usually lost control of himself when his climax approached. He didn’t trust himself to make convincing noises without a little help, so he reached down to grab his erection again through his underwear. The tortured groan that escaped him as soon as his hand came into contact with his neglected cock was absolutely real, and when he realised that Sansa was crying out his name he groaned again and tightened his hold. Every base instinct in his body was screaming at him to at least put his hand inside his underwear and wrap his fist around himself properly, but he resisted the urge, grinding his teeth together in angry determination and hopeless frustration.

He rolled to the side as quickly as he could, his shoulders thanking him for it. His hands were resting at his sides, and his erection was reaching a stage where it was just _painful._ Stannis thought wistfully about the time in his life where he had been convinced that ‘blue balls’ weren’t actually a real thing that could happen, and only invented by men who liked to wheedle women into having sex with them.

“Thank you. I’m hoping Petyr will be less interested in watching from now on. I think he mostly wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t get hurt in here,” Sansa whispered into his ear, lying on her side quite close to him. He could feel one of her thighs touching one of his and decided to lift his knees again, keeping his feet flat on the bed, so that she wouldn’t be able to throw her leg across his body.

“I hope we were convincing enough,” she added with a worried note to her quiet voice.

Stannis grimaced. His increasingly painful erection and tender sac were pretty convinced.

“Is there a washroom in here?” Stannis asked in a normal tone of voice. It would not be unusual for him to want to clean up after sex.

“Yes, right through there,” Sansa pointed at a door on the other side of the room.

Stannis nodded and hurriedly got out of the bed, hoping that Sansa wouldn’t look at his groin as he walked over to the door she had indicated. He pushed his underwear down and wrapped his hand around his cock as soon as the door clicked shut behind him. He desperately hoped that there weren’t any peep holes in the washroom, because if there were, the game was up. He leant against the door as he pumped his fist up and down, maintaining a furious pace and hoping for a quick release. He was never really one to draw this act out, but he was in even more of a hurry now than he usually was because he _desperately_ needed the relief. He bit his tongue to prevent himself from moaning gratefully when he finally came. Unfortunately he had left it too long to find his release, and his sac still felt incredibly tender. The painful tenderness had even spread upwards to his lower abdomen, a sensation he had not felt since he had been a teenager. (He had been obliged to sit behind a very attractive, very inappropriately dressed girl at school for _hours_ , and as much as he had tried to concentrate on what the teacher had been saying, his body had been thoroughly distracted by all the bare skin on display.)

After he’d flushed away the evidence of his weakness, he washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror above the sink. His face was warm and his cheeks tinged red, his eyes were glassy, his hair was a _mess,_ and he’d never seen himself look quite that guilty. Probably because he had never felt this guilty. He'd always made a point of doing the right thing and avoiding vice and corruption.

He just wished his body hadn't decided to betray him while he'd been trying to do the right thing. More than that he wished doing the right thing hadn't required him to be nearly naked with a teenage girl!

Stannis sighed and gave himself a sceptical look. If he were to be brutally honest with himself he had to admit that a part of him had liked being nearly naked with Sansa. And he was a grown man, so he couldn’t really blame it all on hormones and biology. He had managed to control himself when that Melisandre woman had tried to seduce him. With Sansa there was something different going on, and that was why he felt so horribly guilty.

Stannis splashed his face with cold water and took a few steadying breaths. He needed to go back out there. Hopefully he’d be able to control himself properly now that he had found his release. He could think about the implications of his inability to keep his head on straight around Sansa at a later time.

Sansa was standing near the door to the corridor, dressed in her silk robe again.

She walked up to him and wound her arms around his neck, standing up on the tips of her toes to kiss his lips, his cheek and his ear. “Petyr was just at the door. He wants me to slip you a sleeping draft. Don’t accept anything I offer you to drink,” she whispered, “he’s still watching.”

More loudly she said, “would you like something to drink now that we’ve taken the edge off your impatience?” Her tone was teasing and playful.

“I don’t drink,” he said curtly.

“It doesn’t have to be alcohol, silly,” Sansa cooed, leaning back a little and almost hanging from his neck, looking up at him with amusement and something like adoration. His guilt intensified because he rather liked her looking at him like that.

“No, thank you,” he said firmly, “but if you would like to partake I won’t stop you.”

“Seems a shame to let that lovely bottle of Champagne go to waste,” Sansa said, letting go of his neck and walking towards the bucket of ice that stood in a place of honour on the little table that served as a bar. She opened the bottle with practised ease, something that Stannis found to be rather jarring as she was really too young to handle anything alcoholic with practised ease, and poured herself a glass. There was a small crystal bowl full of strawberries on the bar as well, and Sansa took the bowl and the flute of Champagne with her to the bed, setting the objects down on the nightstand and making herself comfortable.

“Come here, please. If you’re not going to drink anything, I’ll just have to feed you strawberries instead.”

It really was bizarre and unfamiliar to have a beautiful girl cater to him like this. But it was… not entirely unpleasant. _It’s an act. It’s all an act._ She probably just wanted him close by so that they could whisper something real to each other. Anyway, it would make him feel decidedly less exposed to be under the covers again. He was still only in his underwear.

When he got under the covers next to her, he leaned towards her as if to kiss her. Instead of letting his lips touch her skin he whispered, “did it seem like Baelish bought the act?”

“Definitely,” Sansa giggled, bringing a strawberry to his lips. He gave her a halfhearted glare, but took a bite. It was a very sweet, very juicy strawberry and a bit of juice ran down his chin. Sansa caught it with her finger and popped it into her mouth, sucking the juice off with apparent relish. A primitive part of his brain took a little too much notice of how her lips wrapped around her finger. He swallowed the sweet bite he had taken and continued to stare at Sansa as she finished the strawberry he had bitten into and took a sip of Champagne.

“Are you sure you don’t want some? Strawberries and Champagne go so well together.”

“No, thank you.”

Stannis really didn’t like strawberries that much, but he took a bite every time Sansa offered him one. The next time the juice ran down his chin she leaned in and licked it off. _Was she trying to kill him?_

“So, what’s the plan?” Sansa whispered a little while after she had licked him. Did she really expect him to be able to tell her anything coherent after that?

“I’ll tell Robert where you are and we will pool our resources to get you out,” he managed after a silence that had lasted a little too long.

Sansa nodded thoughtfully, idly tracing a fingertip down his neck towards his clavicle. It really didn’t _seem_ like she was just doing it for show. She seemed to just like touching him. But that had to be wishful thinking.

“Petyr always goes to a meeting at his bank as soon as it opens after he hosts these events. He usually stays for at least two hours. It’s usually between nine and eleven in the morning. He never takes me with him because the bank is so close to the Red Keep, so he leaves me at home - his townhouse - while he’s away,” Sansa whispered, pressing herself distractingly close as she did.

“That would be the day after tomorrow, then?”

“Oh, yes… that sounds _good_ ,” Sansa answered flirtatiously at a normal volume, obviously not wanting their whispered conversations to become long enough to arouse suspicion if Baelish was still playing peeping Tom.

She kissed him then, full on the lips. Her tongue ran across his bottom lip and he opened his mouth in startled surprise. She deepened the kiss, letting him taste the lingering hints of strawberries and Champagne on her tongue, moving her head so that she could kiss him at an angle and get even better access. He barely kissed her back because he was frozen in shock, but she moaned against his lips regardless; as if he were kissing her the way she had always dreamt of being kissed. It made him want to attempt to try something more ambitious than just letting her do what she wanted, but he wasn’t sure if she would approve of that. Before he managed to make up his mind she had broken the kiss.

“Would you like me to kiss you somewhere else?” she asked playfully, winking at him conspiratorially. ‘Trust me,’ she seemed to say.

His heart started to pound even more frantically than it had started to pound when she kissed him. His eyes widened and he felt like he was choking on his own breath. Idiot! She’s just talking about _pretending_ to… oh, Gods. His spent cock was twitching at the idea of her even just putting her head _near_ his lap. He was still so tender from before that it sort of hurt.

His first instinct was to tell her that there was no need for something like that, but he knew that Baelish would become _very_ suspicious if Stannis turned Sansa’s offer down. 

He nodded jerkily, clenching his jaw and preparing a mental playlist of miserable thoughts and memories to keep himself under control. Hopefully it would be easy to stay _at ease_ due to his sojourn to the washroom, but he wanted to be prepared.

“I thought you might,” Sansa said with a smirk. In a whisper she added, “don’t bite my head off for this later, but you’re not an amazing actor, so I’m going to try to help you out a little, okay?”

Before he could so much as shoot her an indignant look, she had disappeared beneath the covers, her head coming to rest against one of his thighs. _What had she meant by helping him out a little?_ he thought, feeling panicked and embarrassingly excited. It was awfully pathetic, and completely _wrong,_ but this night of pretending with Sansa was turning out to be the most inappropriately erotic experience of his life.

He shifted his upper body around uncomfortably, trying to keep his legs absolutely still. He was feeling very worried about what she might do, and _terrified_ that whatever she did would make him hard again. With her head down there it would be difficult to keep her from noticing. He waited on tenterhooks, a sheen of perspiration making his skin sticky and uncomfortable. Sansa didn’t do anything at first, but suddenly he could feel her fingertips tracing circles on his inner thigh, her fingernail scratching lightly at the sensitive skin. He narrowly prevented himself from jumping in surprise, but couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped. When she started to blow hot air on his skin he had to grit his teeth and start thinking about the time when Robert had forgotten that he was supposed to walk Stannis home on his first day of school, leaving him to wait on the steps for _hours,_ all alone and too young to know what to do. Eventually a teacher noticed him and called his parents. Robert had just shrugged when Steffon and Cassana had yelled at him for forgetting his brother, “I was excited to go spend time with Ned,” his only excuse.

The memory of his sad, lonely afternoon on the steps lasted him through more gentle scratches of Sansa’s fingernails and a few more hot breaths of air. His breathing was a bit laboured, but he had managed not to make any awkward sounds since that first surprised yelp. Stannis should have known better than to let himself be lulled into a false sense of security, however. 

She _licked_ the inside of his thigh. Just a very quick touch of her searing hot tongue, but there was no mistaking it.

Stannis exclaimed in surprise, grabbing fisfuls of the bedcovers and holding on tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought about the time when Robert didn’t help him when some older boys had started to shove him and throw his books into the mud. When Stannis had angrily - definitely not tearfully - asked his brother why he hadn’t done anything to stop the bullies, his brother had told him that Stannis needed to learn to stand up for himself. This memory allowed him to withstand a few more little darts of Sansa’s tongue against the hypersensitive skin of his thigh.

He wondered what was going through Sansa’s mind. Did she really think he was so bad at acting that he wouldn’t be able to fake looking like a woman was sucking him off? Was she only prodding him and _licking_ for that reason? Stannis tried to put himself in her shoes, wondering if he would go to such lengths if he was her, and if he was with a man who might very well be the key to escaping from a horrifying situation. Probably. But he might draw the line at _licking._ Especially if he was repulsed by his would-be saviour. Did that mean that Sansa was not repulsed by him? Maybe she even like him a little? He did not think that he would ever lick the thigh of anyone he did not like at least a little bit. And she had seemed very happy to see him when he first arrived...

 _Stop being an imbecile,_ he thought to himself with an internal eye-roll. She was acting. She was just acting, and she was trying to help him act, too.

Stannis took a deep breath and tried to imagine how he would be responding if Sansa actually had his cock in her mouth. He didn’t have much experience to draw from as Selyse hadn’t wanted to do it after a few halfhearted attempts, and he had been celibate since the divorce, although he _could_ have had sex with Melisandre if the idea of it hadn’t been too repugnant to consider. Melisandre had propositioned him before the ink had been dry on the divorce papers, and the woman was his ex-wife’s attorney for fuck’s sake. It would have been completely twisted.

Thinking about Selyse and Melisandre was probably contorting his face into a sour grimace, and he was relatively sure that he would not be scowling if Sansa were actually pleasuring him. He dredged up the memories of how it had felt to have a hot mouth suck on the head of his cock, a small hand encircling the shaft and stroking him at the same time. It was very difficult to try to remember what it was like to receive head and to also keep himself from responding physically to the memories, but Stannis tried to focus on thinking about what he had been doing with his face instead of how ridiculously good it felt to have a woman lick something other than his thigh. What sort of expression had he been making at the time? He remembered that he had closed his eyes because he had felt vaguely embarrassed about watching his wife’s actions, and he had opened his mouth because breathing through his nose hadn’t been a viable option… 

Stannis closed his eyes and and stopped trying to regulate his breathing, allowing himself to hyperventilate a little. His face felt warm, and he tried to think of it as a positive thing. He would be flushed with arousal if Sansa were actually doing what she was pretending to do. He was still holding on to the covers very tightly, his knuckles going white, but he thought that was probably accurate, too.

Sansa started moving her head under the covers, and Stannis thought that an outside observer would be left in no doubt about what she was doing. Her movements meant that she was no longer teasing his thigh with her tongue, and he was both grateful for the reprieve and pathetically saddened by the loss.

Knowing that he would definitely be making noises by now, Stannis tried to make some kind of moaning sound. It did not sound remotely convincing. He felt more than heard Sansa’s exasperated sigh, and he probably should have expected her to do something to make him let out a more realistic noise, but it still came as a surprise when she both raked her nails down the length of his inner thigh and sucked on the skin just above the waistband of his underwear.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

The curse came out completely without his permission, along with a guttural, desperate sound. His cock twitched and was well on its way to hardening before his mind cleared enough for him to think of something that would kill his arousal. He might have been able to salvage the situation with some intense concentration if Sansa hadn’t decided to do it _again,_ wrenching a half-panicked, half-pleased “ah!” from his throat. His pleasure at the feeling was drenched in guilt, however, and it worsened to critical levels when he couldn’t stop his semi from becoming fully erect. It was throbbing faintly, _angrily,_ and he was still very tender from before.

Since her head was located right _there_ , her mouth having just been busy sucking on the sensitive area underneath his navel, his cotton-encased erection was currently nudging her neck. There was no way she wasn’t _acutely_ aware of his shameful response. She didn’t make a disgusted noise or break character, however. She simply went back to moving her head as if she were pleasuring him, some part of her face (her cheek?) occasionally bumping against the bulge in his underwear.

A low whine emitted from the back of his throat, a sound that did not really manage to convey his mixed feelings of apologetic shame, embarrassment, and gut-wrenchingly guilty pleasure.

He had to be the worst human being that had ever lived. To think himself so noble and chivalrous, rescuing Sansa from men who would prey on her, and then turning around and wishing she would keep bumping her face against his _second_ inappropriate erection of the night. He was just as loathsome and foul as any of the men he had judged so harshly at the beginning of the evening, and he really just ought to be locked up. He was obviously not fit to mix with normal, decent people.

He needed to put an end to this.

Using a similar turn of phrase as he had before, he told Sansa that he was almost there. She sped up her movements, and he let his breathing become loud and irregular, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, clenching and baring his teeth. He was just getting ready to make some sort of groaning noise to signal that she could stop what she was doing when she _bit the inside of his thigh._ She didn’t bite very hard, but it was hard enough to sent an electric jolt of pleasure through his body, making his cock jump and wrenching a loud, startled cry from him. It was much more convincing than anything he could have faked.

He was still in mild shock when she emerged from under the covers, wiping her mouth ostentatiously.

“Did you like that?” she asked with a knowing smirk, her eyes lit up with a self-satisfied gleam. Stannis wasn’t sure if she were just acting, or if she was genuinely pleased that she had managed to give him a cockstand.

 _Just acting,_ he decided sternly. She was probably horrified at his reaction and was just hiding it extremely well.

He swallowed a few times, his mouth feeling completely dry, and gave her an apologetic look as he nodded once. Seven hells, but he’d have to do a lot of groveling when this was over. He needed her to forgive him and hopefully to never tell anyone about this. _Ever._ Especially not Robert.

She smiled, blushed and ducked her head as if he’d just praised her to high heaven instead of giving her a curt nod. “I’m going to freshen up a little,” she said lightly, standing up and walking to the washroom with a pronounced swing in her hips.

Stannis never drank, but if he did, he’d be heading for the whiskey right about now. He could use a stiff drink to calm his nerves and dull the uncomfortable throbbing sensation between his legs. Instead he rolled over to lie on his front, burying his face in a pillow and groaning in frustration and at the same time guiltily enjoying the feeling of trapping his erection between the mattress and his own body.

Maybe it was because he was distracted by his own thoughts, maybe his hearing was impaired because his face was buried in a pillow, and maybe Sansa was just very light of foot, but Stannis did not realise she was back in the room with him until the mattress dipped slightly under her weight, and a drop of cool liquid landed on his back, quickly followed by Sansa’s warm hand.

 _Oil._ It was the oil she had mentioned when she had been rubbing his neck. Was she seriously going to give him a back massage, too? What was he supposed to do with that?


	4. Oil and chocolate

He could feel that she was not wearing her silk robe, because the sleeves were not dragging over his skin as she rubbed more and more oil all over his back. She had moved to sit astride him, her warm weight pressing his groin even more firmly into the mattress, a feeling that was at once pleasant and not _enough._ Concentrating on what her hands were doing did not help much. He had never had a massage before, but he was starting to understand why Renly had a standing appointment with a masseur in town. Stannis had always thought it was a ‘gay thing’, but perhaps it was just a - _oh, Gods_ \- really very intelligent thing that Stannis should take up, too. He’d want a masseuse rather than a masseur, however. Maybe he just wanted Sansa.

Sansa bent forwards, bringing her face close to his and causing her hair to fall over her shoulders and tickle his neck.

“Hopefully Petyr won’t have wanted to watch me go down on you, but I can’t be sure it made him annoyed enough to leave,” she whispered, and Stannis understood why she had gone to the trouble of pretending to do _that._ He wondered if there was any similar reason for the massage, but found himself doubting it. Likely it was just something that would look convincing.

“I really don’t want you to fall asleep... If you do, Petyr is going to want me to sleep in his room. I think I can convince him not to have sex with me yet by pretending to be too sore from doing it with you, but I doubt I’ll be able to put him off for very long. It would be really good if someone could get me out when Petyr goes to the bank. He hardly ever leaves me except for then,” she added hurriedly, rising up again to continue kneading the rigid muscles of his back.

Stannis did not think it was likely that he would have been able to fall asleep under the circumstances, but now that he knew what would happen to her if he did accidentally drift off, he felt as if he has just been injected with a massive dose of caffeine. A million questions burst to the forefront of his mind, and he turned his head a little so that he might be able to whisper to her the next time she bent forwards.

Somehow she sensed that he wanted to whisper something to her, so a short while later she bent forwards again.

“Has Baelish been sexually harassing you?”

“He kisses me, and sometimes he touches my breasts. He likes it when I sit in his lap. He’s been careful not to do more. I suppose I was worth more untouched.”

Maybe it was because she was whispering, but there was no emotion in her words. It was more like she was reading from Malleon’s _Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms_ than talking of her being taken advantage of. It caused a pang of intense anger and sorrow to pierce his heart, and it made him feel even worse about his erection -- if that was even possible. Of course she hadn’t reacted to his body’s interest with disgust earlier. She was used to being lusted after, conditioned to just accept it.

To Stannis’ relief he felt the blood start to flow back up to his brain, and he started to soften. It did wonders for his conscience to know that he was at least not so terrible that he could listen to a woman talk about how unwanted liberties had been taken with her body and feel aroused at the same time.

“When Baelish is away, does he leave the townhouse unguarded?” Stannis asked, certain that Baelish would make sure that Sansa was watched at all times.

“Ever since we got back to King’s Landing he’s never left me alone. He has Gregor Clegane guarding me when I’m not with him, and I know Petyr has instructed Clegane to hurt me if I try to go anywhere without permission. I’ve never dared to try,” Sansa explained in a tiny voice, rising up again to massage him some more. It still felt very nice, but it was no longer arousing him the way it had been at first. He was also getting a crick in his neck from the way he was lying on the pillow. He turned to face the other way to attempt to alleviate the discomfort.

When Sansa’s words registered, he felt himself go pale. Gregor Clegane was a renowned rapist and thug. He was probably a murderer too, but as he was protected by the Lannister family, no prosecutor had been able to make any murder charges stick. He was never in jail for very long, and always seemed to keep busy doing dirty work for rich and powerful people.

The next time Sansa bent down Stannis asked, “any other guards or personnel?”

“Just Clegane and the housekeeper,” Sansa whispered, “and she’s harmless enough.”

Sansa continued to rub his back for a while as Stannis digested what she had told him. If what Sansa was saying was true, and he had no reason to doubt her word, she had been living under house arrest for a long time, under constant threat of violent rape from the likes of Gregor Clegane and unable to defend herself from Littlefinger’s sexual advances. The only thing that had been protecting her from Littlefinger taking her to his bed was the fact that Baelish was greedy enough to want to sell Sansa’s virginity to the highest bidder.

In Littlefinger’s eyes, this protection was now gone.

Would Sansa really be able to hold him off for a day and a night by saying she was sore?

Stannis’ stomach twisted itself into knots and he felt a terrible feeling of foreboding and helplessness wash over him. Would this night of mummery perhaps not be enough to spare her after all? Would his actions only mean that she would be raped by one man instead of two?

He felt the wild urge to turn around and take her into his arms so that he could hold her close the way he did sometimes when Shireen had nightmares. He wasn’t usually at ease with offering physical comfort, but ever since Shireen was a baby it had been the only thing that made her stop crying.

Stannis squashed the urge and tried to focus on the problem at hand; getting Sansa away from Petyr Baelish was soon as humanly possible.

Perhaps he could just talk to Robert as soon as he left this building and got his phone back, get Robert to talk to the police and send a team to extract Sansa immediately? He could testify to the fact that Sansa was Sansa Stark, and not Alayne Stone as Baelish was pretending, and he could say that she was being held against her will under threat of physical abuse. That had to be enough to justify a search of Littlefinger’s townhouse. When they found Sansa and her testimony was added to his, they might even be able to convict Baelish for kidnapping and Gods only knew what else.

At the next opportunity Stannis asked Sansa whether she thought this was a workable plan.

“No!” she whispered with a frightened, almost panicked, tone in her voice, “you don’t understand how firmly he has _everyone_ in his pocket. As soon as you tried to involve the police Petyr would know about it. He pretty much _owns_ the police. It would be your word against his that I’m Sansa Stark and not Alayne Stone, and he has all the papers to prove that I’m Alayne. Sansa Stark is officially _dead._ I’m really sorry, but I would not feel safe going against Petyr in this scenario, so I would be of no help to you…”

It was a while before she leant back down so that he could answer her, giving him time to think her words over. What she said made sense. Even with Robert’s clout Stannis wouldn’t be able to win against Baelish if he let the fight take place on Littlefinger’s turf and on Littlefinger’s terms.

This would have to be a subtle operation. Sansa would have to vanish into thin air, leaving Baelish with no hint as to where she had gone. Any search Baelish attempted would have to be futile, and Sansa would have to stay hidden until Robert and Stannis found a way to prove that she was Sansa Stark, and not Alayne Stone. Stannis almost groaned when he realised what a bureaucratic mess of red tape it would be to get Sansa Stark declared back from the dead.

“All right, no police. We’ll wait until Baelish is out of the house. Getting Clegane out of the way might be tricky, though,” Stannis furrowed his brow, trying to come up with a way to distract or incapacitate the Mountain without leaving clues for Baelish to follow up on.

“I think I have an idea for that. I’m going to smuggle the entire supply of the sleeping powder that is kept in this room. Clegane would never suspect me of trying to outwit him because I’ve always been meek and quiet as a mouse around him. I should be able to trick him into drinking a sleeping draft. The housekeeper keeps out of the way for the most part, so I should probably be able to sneak out of the house without her even noticing.”

Her words felt even better than her hands on his back, and that was saying something. She had thought of a smart, simple, workable plan that would hopefully not endanger anyone. She was _wonderful._

“If you manage to get out, I can make sure someone will be waiting to pick you up and take you to safety,” Stannis whispered at the next opportunity, and Sansa squeezed him briefly and made a relieved sound.

However. This plan still left her in Littlefinger’s clutches for a day and a night longer than Stannis would have preferred.

“Are you certain Baelish won’t - ah - pressure you into… anything?” Stannis asked, glad that his pillow was mostly obscuring his flush of embarrassment.

“I hope he won’t. He’s not the type to use force if a little patience can get him what he wants just as well. If I ask him for some time to recover, he’s likely to allow it.”

“What if his patience runs out and he…” Stannis paused to think of a delicate way to put what he was trying to say, “... discovers that you are still untouched?”

“Well, then he’ll probably guess that you’re helping me. Or he will make me tell him.”

It sent another pang of hurt through Stannis to hear Sansa say without a trace of doubt that Baelish could _make_ her tell him something that important.

Their whispered conversation was stilted, as Sansa didn’t seem to want to lean over for too long at a time, always rising up to continue coaxing the tension from the muscles in his back after trading only a sentence or two. Stannis was grateful for her relaxing touch because the things she was saying were really quite worrying. The fact that keeping the details of their escape plan a secret depended on Baelish being honourable enough to wait when Sansa asked him to was really very nerve-racking.

“There is something we could do to make sure he doesn’t find out about the plan that way…” Sansa whispered hesitantly after a while. It sounded as if she were afraid he wouldn’t approve of her idea. He couldn’t imagine how he could possibly disapprove of an idea that would help keep her even a little bit safer than otherwise.

“What is it?” Stannis asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. Well, as neutral as a muffled whisper could be.

“Um. You know… Petyr wouldn’t be able to discover that I’m ‘untouched’ if we… if you _touched_ me.”

Stannis stopped breathing. Was the girl actually suggesting he take her virginity? Just on the off chance that Baelish might force himself on her before he and Robert had a chance to rescue her?

“No!” he whispered as loudly as he dared as soon as he had re-learnt how to breathe, “that would be completely inappropriate and I - I couldn’t. I can’t!” A desperate, pleading tone had entered his voice. ( _Please don’t ask this of me._ )

“Of course you _can._ We both know that. The question is only whether you’re willing,” Sansa answered calmly, blithely referencing the erection he had embarrassed himself with previously.

The flesh was certainly willing. But the spirit? He was fairly certain that he’d loathe himself for the rest of his life if he took it upon himself to accept something that in a just world should never have been his. It would feel too much like he was taking advantage of her, since she was in the unfortunate situation of having to choose between two bad options. He did not flatter himself that she would ever have wanted him to be her first if she could have chosen anyone in the world. He was the lesser of two evils; that was all.

He didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent, hoping that she would just let the matter drop.

“I know it’s not ideal. I know I would probably not be suggesting this if my family had not been murdered, and I was not trapped. But they were and I am. I don’t get to choose what I wear or how to dress my hair. I don’t get to choose where to go or who to spend my time with. It looks like I’m not even going to be allowed to choose who I share my body with. Please… I don’t want my first time to be with Petyr.”

Stannis had almost forgotten how _intimate_ it was for someone to whisper into his ear. They had been conversing like this the whole night, and he had just become desensitised to it. This time it was different. Her words, the way she said them with a small tremor in her voice, how she was breathing into his ear and sometimes touching the lobe with her lips as she spoke; it was all coming together to make him feel like this was the most intimate moment of his life.

“You deserve better than the lesser of two evils,” he muttered, feeling suddenly very ridiculous about their positions and wanting to sit up and talk to her from a more dignified place. He couldn’t, though. If Baelish was still watching it might seem suspicious. Sansa seemed to have grown tired of kneading his muscles, however, as her hands weren’t really massaging him at this point as much as they were stroking him gently, letting her hands glide over his oil-slicked skin.

“If you think that’s all you are, we clearly haven’t been having the same night,” Sansa said wryly into his ear, “but I suppose I can’t blame you. You’re not enjoying my view.”

Stannis felt himself redden immediately, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at her implied praise. He understood why she was attempting to flatter him, and he thought it was rather underhanded of her, but he couldn’t help but be affected by her words.

“Flattering me won’t make me feel comfortable with what you’re suggesting,” he bit out through gritted teeth.

“Is it flattery if it’s true? Maybe it’s completely inappropriate, but I’ve been having as much fun with you tonight as it is possible to have under the circumstances. I’d like to think that I’d be interested in getting to know you better after I’m free. You’re fascinating when you’re not hiding behind your armour.”

“Armour?” Stannis asked, almost scoffing, mostly to buy himself time because he did not really know how to respond to her words.

“Your starched shirts, your scarily impeccable suits, your constant frowning,” Sansa answered, “I remember asking you about your frowns, once, and I think you almost smiled at me… It made me realise that you hide behind your frowns like Robert hides behind his stupid jokes, and how Mum used to hide behind her perfect manners…” Sansa trailed off uncertainly and Stannis could feel how hot her cheek was, right up close to his face.

“You think I’m…” Stannis stopped himself. It did not matter if she thought he was fascinating. It did not matter that she remembered the last time they had spoken and that she had made eerily accurate deductions about him. It did not matter because wanting to get to know someone and just plain _wanting_ them was not the same thing.

Sansa moved her face away before he found the words to finish his sentence. She started to scratch his back lightly instead of sliding her hands around, and it was almost _orgasmic._ It might seem like a silly thing to crave, but Stannis had gone from a lonely adolescence to a rather cold marriage. He hadn’t had his back scratched by another person since he was a child, and it was decidedly different when a beautiful woman did it, while straddling him. He groaned into the pillow, feeling rather like Sansa was fighting dirty.

“Have you any idea how sexy you are?” she whispered into his ear, her voice taking on a seductive edge.

Seven buggering hells. Now his cock was hardening again. He wished he could growl at her to stop what she was doing, that she shouldn’t demean herself like this, shouldn’t throw herself at him because there was a slight chance Baelish would…

_Shit._

Stannis realised that no matter how he attempted to finish that thought he could not make sex with himself the worse option. She was trying to do the logical thing given her circumstances.

If this were any girl but Sansa he was sure that Robert would be laughing his arse off at Stannis for landing himself in this situation. He could just hear Robert’s mocking voice in his head, laughingly saying something along the lines of: ‘poor Stannis, forced to have sex with a beautiful woman who thinks you’re sexy. What a terrible fate! Surely you will perish from the horror of it.’

“Please don’t…” he murmured weakly, “don’t pretend that you’re attracted to me.”

Her fingernails dug painfully into his back for a moment and he yelped in surprise. “I’m not pretending!” she hissed, “you’re being very self-effacing, and that’s the only thing about you that I don’t find attractive. You should try a little self-confidence, instead. You’d be surprised how many women might show an interest.”

“Excuse me, I’m very self-confident,” Stannis argued, feeling rather miffed. He had been described as arrogant much more often than he cared to admit, but when one could back the so-called ‘arrogance’ up with actual competence, it should be called self-confidence and not arrogance, he thought.

“About your work, maybe, but in the bedroom? With a woman?” Sansa challenged, her voice becoming very soft and alluring at the words ‘bedroom’ and ‘woman’, her breath hot against his ear.

Stannis swallowed. She might have a point.

“Are you going to make me beg you to take me?” she whispered after a long silence, heat in her low voice, “beg and plead and tell you how wet I am for you? Is that what I have to do? Because I don’t mind doing it if that’s what you want.”

 _Fuck._ He was so hard; his cock made stiff by the blood that had previously been fueling his brain and making him nice and sane for most of their conversation. Now he just felt stupid and hard.

“Please, Stannis, _please,_ ” she whispered, “I need you _so_ much.”

There was something very wrong with what she was doing. He’d claim that she was taking advantage of _him_ if he wasn’t guiltily enjoying her pleading. 

“Stop it,” he said hoarsely, no real force behind his words. He didn’t really want her to stop. He felt completely lost in a fog of arousal and black, heavy guilt burning like acid in his stomach. He didn’t know whether he was thankful or irritated that the physical pressure of his lust was only almost, but not quite, managing to overpower the awful feeling of guilt.

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. That would be rather hypocritical of me. But I’m not going to let you doubt the fact that _I want this._ I want you,” she said seriously, her lips kissing his ear before and after she spoke. When she rose up again she kept scratching his back, letting her nails go up to his neck and higher, scratching his scalp, too. He felt like he was melting under her touch, the only stiff and tense part of him was now beneath his waist, trapped against the mattress in a way that was making him want to move his hips and thrust forward.

_No. He would not hump the fucking bed. He had standards._

She bent to whisper into his ear and he swallowed thickly, wondering what she might say to try to convince him that she wanted him.

“Do you know what I’m seeing when I’m up there, touching your back? I’m seeing your broad shoulders and your narrow waist make a perfect triangle. I read somewhere that women are programmed to respond to this shape because it indicates peak physical fitness. I can’t speak for other women, but it’s _really_ working for me,” she whispered, a heavy emphasis on the her last words. She even rubbed herself against him a little where she was straddling him, as if she were very turned on and trying for some friction.

She rose up and started talking at a regular volume, though her voice was breathless and seductive. “You’re really so fit, Stannis. I love touching you… everything is so firm and _hard._ ” She touched him as she spoke, raking her nails over his skin and stroking, stroking, _stroking._

Stannis put his face straight down on his pillow, squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. She was absolutely ruthless. The way she had just somehow complimented him in a way that made her sound well-read and intelligent, but also completely taken with him, was extremely arousing. Stannis always thought intelligence was the most attractive trait a woman could have, even if physical beauty of Sansa’s caliber certainly didn’t hurt.

He was surprised when she suddenly got off him and all the way off the bed. She walked over the little bar and reached for a bottle that Stannis hadn’t noticed before. He was relatively sure it was the kind of chocolate syrup that Shireen was always begging him to buy. The kind you could mix with milk to make chocolate milk, or just pour over waffles or ice cream. Stannis didn’t approve of waffles and ice cream unless the occasion warranted it, and putting chocolate syrup in milk was just a recipe for cavities. He had a feeling that Sansa wasn’t going to make herself a glass of chocolate milk, however.

“Turn around,” she said with a playful smile. Stannis was still under the covers from the waist down, so he reluctantly did as she bid, hoping the covers would disguise his erection. He was both extremely relieved and guiltily disappointed when she didn’t straddle him again, choosing to kneel besides him instead. She placed the bottle of chocolate syrup on the nightstand and faced away from him, sweeping her hair across one shoulder.

“Can you help me get the corselette off? I know you like it, but it’s getting uncomfortable and I don’t want to ruin it with chocolate syrup,” she asked with a sweet, innocent tone of voice, but there was a gleam in her eye that could only be described as determined. Possibly a little evil, too, or perhaps that was just his imagination.

He sat up slowly, knowing that he couldn’t deny her at this point without raising suspicion. His heart was pounding at the idea of seeing her practically naked, seeing her _breasts_ , and he could feel his face burning with embarrassment and arousal. This was wrong. This was so, so wrong.

He fumbled with the delicate little hooks that were holding the white, lace corselette snug to Sansa’s body. It took him a while to get them all, both because they were so many and also because his fingers were clumsier than a one-legged drunk. He hoped she couldn’t tell how his hands were shaking.

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief when the corselette fell to the floor. She ran her hands over the skin that had been covered, and Stannis couldn’t help following the path her hands were tracing with his eyes. He felt a little bad when he saw that there were red marks on her skin where the corselette had been digging into her. Should he have bitten the bullet and helped her out of the restrictive garment sooner?

 _Gods._ All that skin… aside from the red marks, she was _perfect._ Her back was smooth and white as alabaster and it looked like it would be heavenly soft to the touch, much like the rest of her. He closed his eyes with embarrassment when she turned around. He did not deserve… he shouldn’t -

_What was that?_

For the second time that night some liquid had been allowed to come into contact with his person, taking him unawares. He instinctively opened his eyes to see what was going on, but was quick to close them again when all he could see were _breasts._ It had only been a second, but the image of them was already being moved to his long-term memory, labelled as ‘A Sight to Never Ever Forget. Ever.’ They had been perfect. Just the size and shape to fit into the palm of his hand, he was sure. She also had to be cold or something, because her nipples were stiff little peaks, pink and tempting, surrounded by her soft-looking alabaster skin. When he got over the novelty of her nipples and examined the rest of the image, he could see that next to the breasts there had been a hand, holding a bottle of chocolate syrup upside down over his abdomen. That would explain the sticky, viscous liquid he could still feel on his body, then.

He had a feeling she was about to do something truly unfair.

He felt her shift around, leaning forwards so that her breasts came into contact with the skin of his lower abdomen. The sensation of her warm, soft breasts pressing against him down there would have been quite enough to wrench a moan from him, but of course she had more than that in store for him. Her tongue found the dollop of chocolate syrup a little higher up on his torso and she started to lick it up with lazy, teasing strokes of her tongue.

He reached for the covers as he moaned brokenly, wanting to hold onto something, but Sansa was kneeling on one side of him, blocking his access to the covers on that side. He made do with grabbing a fistful of the covers on the other side only, laying his palm flat against the mattress where Sansa was in the way.

“I’ve been wanting to lick chocolate off your abs since the moment you took your shirt off,” Sansa playfully confessed, “they’re really very lickable.”

He couldn’t answer her. Anything he might have attempted to say would have come out as one swear word or another.

She wasn’t playing _fair._ He only wanted to do the right, honourable, and _decent_ thing. Why was she trying to make him abandon his morals?

He knew why. She had told him plainly. She wanted to have some agency when it came to choosing who she shared her body with. She wanted him rather than Baelish. She wanted to make sure that her escape would be successful even if Littlefinger attempted to force her to his bed before he and Robert were able to extract her. She was making a logical choice.

But why, knowing all of this, did he still feel like he would be taking advantage of a vulnerable, trapped _girl_ if he gave into her wishes?

“I’m telling you the truth, Stannis. I want to lick you all over…” she continued, getting more syrup and squeezing several more fat dollops of shiny, dark chocolate onto his abdomen. His skin felt sticky where she had been licking him already, and he’d be a _mess_ after all of this. Oil on his back, chocolate on his front, strawberry juice on his chin, lipstick on his shirt collar…

At least his come had been flushed discreetly away.

Maybe he could escape to the washroom again? Take care of his _needs_ and thus make sure he couldn’t give her what she was after? Or more accurately, make sure he wouldn’t be able to take something he did not deserve. Surely, he wouldn’t be able to get it up after two releases.... Well, probably not. Stannis glanced down at Sansa. _Fine._ It should buy him half an hour, at least. But trying to prevent himself from being able to - ah - _deliver_ didn’t feel like the right thing to do _either._ Denying her a chance at making her own choice and protecting herself to the best of her ability would be a very cold thing to do. He felt utterly trapped between a rock and a hard place, unable to see the righteous way out.

Gods, but it was hard to think with a near naked girl half on top of him, licking chocolate off his front with apparent relish and humming with pleasure.

Making it look like he wanted to kiss her, he pulled her up so that he could crush his lips to hers. He had meant to give her a quick perfunctory kiss, and then whisper into her ear, but Sansa was having none of it. She held his face still and insisted on exploring his mouth thoroughly with her tongue, letting him taste the chocolate she had been busily cleaning off his body. It was sickly sweet, but on her tongue he didn’t find it to be as repellent as he usually would have. He tentatively let his own tongue curl around hers, his ability to resist her worn away to at least that extent. He knew it was a mistake, but it was a blissful, enjoyable mistake that came complete with the wonderful sensation of Sansa’s full, soft breasts pressed against his bare chest. The heavy pressure of his erection intensified critically, and Stannis moaned into the kiss, a desperate, needy sound that he had never heard himself make before.

When the kiss broke it took Stannis several moments to remember what he had wanted to whisper to Sansa. She attempted to move back down his body, but he tightened his hold on her and started to whisper into her ear even though he still couldn’t quite remember what he had meant to say.

“Sansa… please tell me…” Stannis suddenly remembered what he wanted to ask her, “are you being - uh - are you acting?” he whispered hesitantly and probably a little too bluntly.

Sansa sighed. It felt very hot and ticklish against his ear when she did. It made his breath catch. “I’m only exaggerating a little, I promise. I really do like you. Under normal circumstances I would have wanted to get to know you better before doing this, but I can easily see myself wanting to after a few dates. Especially if I knew how fit you are…” she whispered seriously at first, but was back to being warm and flirtatious at the end.

He moved his head a little way away from her, looking at her intently, searching her eyes for any hint of untruth. She met his gaze fearlessly, her clear blue eyes full of feeling. There was so much going on behind her eyes that he couldn’t really identify which emotions were dominant, but he was certain that she was not lying.

“But I’m so much older than you are…” he muttered helplessly, feeling embarrassed and bewildered.

Sansa rolled her eyes and kissed him again. It was thankfully a shorter kiss than the one that had nearly unmanned him.

“I’m not saying I would have dared to ask you out if you hadn’t at least given me a clue that you might be interested. But if you had asked me out I wouldn’t have said no,” she whispered with a small smile.

Stannis thought Sansa might be the kind of woman who wouldn’t have said no to Tyrion Lannister if he had asked her out. She was _kind._ She seemed the type to give anyone a chance to prove their worth, only dismissing those who disappointed her. Even if she did become disappointed, he could not really imagine her dismissing them cruelly. She’d be the type to let people down gently.

“Do you think you would have wanted to ask me out? If we had met under normal circumstances?” Sansa wondered idly, stroking his neck. Her every touch felt so distractingly _good_ that it took him a moment to gather his thoughts and try to come up with an answer for her question.

Would he have wanted to ask her out? The idea probably would not have occurred to him. If she had somehow entered his life again as Robert’s goddaughter, a beautiful young woman in no immediate danger of being harmed by despicable men, he might have noticed her beauty - it would have been difficult not to - and if he had spoken to her for any length of time he might have come to appreciate her kindness. But to become so presumptuous as to even think of the idea of asking her out? She was - what was that phrase? - ‘out of his league’. So far out of his league that him entertaining fantasies about asking her out would have been as ridiculous a notion as a man on a rowboat envisioning the possibility of making it across the Narrow Sea in a few hours.

Not to mention that her being Robert’s goddaughter and closer to Shireen’s age than his own he would simply have classified her as ‘off limits’ with a side of ‘no fucking way in any of the hells’, and that would have been the end of it.

Or perhaps it wouldn’t have been _quite_ the end of it. Stannis was always honest with himself, and though he was loath to admit it, he could see himself having a lustful thought or two about Sansa even if he had met her under ordinary circumstances. He would never have allowed them to become full blown fantasies, but he might have pictured her naked in his bed for a moment. It occasionally happened when he came into contact particularly beautiful and intelligent women. It happened in a part of his brain that was always rather difficult to control, though he did usually manage to control it after a moment or two, with a little concentration and effort. But it still _happened._

“I… I would not have considered it my right to ask you out,” he answered Sansa, feeling his face warm slightly.

“Of course you wouldn’t have,” Sansa whispered, a peculiar note of something akin to amazement in her tone, “and that’s exactly why I would have said yes.”

She kissed him again, and he felt completely helpless to resist. She was gentle but still eager, her tongue innocently doing things to him that he thought should be illegal because they made him forget his own _name._

Her hand started to trail down his sticky abdomen, inching slowly closer to the line Stannis had drawn in the sand using the covers. He had the vague notion that he should object when she wormed her hand underneath the covers and came to rest on top of the bulge in his underwear, but she was still kissing him and he was too lost in a thick fog of arousal to act on the notion. The guilt that had been anchoring him to reality seemed to have lessened to the extent that it wasn’t working to snap him back to his senses. Not at _all._ Especially since she was stroking him through his underwear, petting him gently at first, touching and exploring curiously after a little while. Her kisses moved from his lips to his neck, hot little licks and nibbles. His breaths started to become noisy and embarrassing, so he tried to not breathe as much.

“Do you want me to stop?” she whispered inquiringly, stilling her hand, when she noticed that he was holding his breath and probably turning purple. He opened his eyes - they had been squeezed tightly shut - and looked into hers. She had stopped nuzzling his neck in order to look at him searchingly, and he wondered what she was looking for.

Unclenching his jaw, Stannis took a few deep breaths and attempted to get clear of the fog.

“I - I don’t know,” he stammered, still feeling hazy and foolish due to severe blood-loss from his brain.

“I don’t want to force you,” Sansa whispered sincerely and very softly.

Her hand was still resting on top of his aching, desperate cock, but now that she had stopped moving, the contact was just serving to drive him mad. A low whine started to emit from his throat, a needy, confused sound that only served to humiliate him.

“Why don’t you think it over? I can just have more chocolate while you decide what you want,” she suggested, sounding very nice, playful, and horribly cruel to Stannis. The cruelness was probably all in his head, however.


	5. Just Like a Woman

She didn’t wait for him to answer her. Before he could raise any objections, she was reaching for the bottle of syrup - giving him rather a spectacular view of her breasts in the process, _seven fucking hells_ \- and dripping more of the sticky stuff onto his body. She seemed to be making a sort of trail, and soon there were little drops of chocolate starting high up on his chest and moving all the way to the edge of the covers. She flipped her hair over a shoulder and out of the way, and bent to swirl her tongue around the first drop of chocolate, high on his left pectoral. She was flicking her tongue across one of his flat nipples when he remembered that he was supposed to be thinking about something.

Was he willing to have sex with Sansa? Maybe. _Yes._ (Even admitting it to himself made him redden.)

Was he willing to allow her to seduce him into it? That would certainly be _easier._ Letting her work him up to a state of mind he had only allowed himself to be ruled by very rarely; a state of mind where his base instincts took over and his most primal drive lead the charge.

Stannis did not want to take the easy way out. If he was going to do this, he would do it with a clear mind, fully aware of his decision and ready to face the consequences - whatever they might be. Doing this to, no, _with_ Sansa might mean that she would never want to see him again after she was free. She might always connect him with captivity and difficult, unjust and cruel decisions. He did not care that she said she might have said yes if he’d offered to take her out under normal circumstances. Taking her virginity under their _actual_ circumstances would most likely have a traumatising effect on her. She might not end up rocking backwards and forwards, sitting at the bottom of a shower stall with the cold water on, but it would at the very least leave a scar where there should have been a romantic memory. A girl like Sansa deserved a romantic memory, not a hard, ugly, old man who barely knew his way around a woman.

But a romantic memory was not one of her options at this point. Her choices were him or a gamble. The gamble being that Baelish would be able to refrain from raping her for long enough for her to escape him.

He ground his teeth together at the thought, causing Sansa to look up at him and raise an eyebrow. He made himself stop, and she went back to torturing him with her clever, _wonderful_ tongue.

Fine. He would do this. It should not matter to him whether she would want to see him again after she was free. He could shoulder the burden of her potential resentment. But the idea of her looking at him with disgust in her eyes hurt him more deeply than he cared to admit. He couldn’t help but hope that she would forgive him, even as he accepted that she might never be able to.

Sansa had just reached the last drop of chocolate, well below his navel, a little to the side of the trail of dark hairs that disappeared into his underwear. He reached down to touch her cheek, exerting the slightest pressure to indicate that he wanted her to look at him. She looked up and licked her lips, cleaning them of the chocolate syrup that had been clinging to them. It was an intensely erotic image, looking down at her with her head so _close_ , her eyes looking back at him and her tongue darting out to lick her lips like that…

“Are you certain?” he asked hoarsely, hoping she would say no. Hoping she would give him a way out, and at the same time guiltily hoping that she was _sure._

“Absolutely,” she whispered, leaving no room for doubt.

Stannis swallowed, his heart beating furiously, perspiration causing the rest of his skin to feel as sticky and uncomfortable as the front of his torso.

“Lie down on your back,” he said, his voice low and as soothing as he could make it. He did not think he was very successful at sounding gentle and comforting, but Sansa did as he asked regardless, untangling the covers and moving them out of the way as she did. The bulge in his underwear was no longer hidden, but Sansa wasn’t looking. He supported himself with an elbow and leaned over her, his face hovering over hers, close enough so that they could whisper to each other without being overheard.

“What would you like me to do for you?” he asked quietly, unsure whether she would prefer to start with; his hands or his mouth or perhaps something else. He imagined there were toys in the room somewhere if that was what she preferred. The idea of it both excited him and made him terribly nervous. He knew women enjoyed those personal massagers, but he had never had any hands-on experience with one. He knew that unless Sansa specifically asked for a toy, he’d be glad to stick to something that was at least vaguely familiar to him.

Her eyes widened when she understood his question and she blushed, her cheeks turning dark pink. Now that he had taken over the leading role, she seemed less sure of herself. With a pang Stannis realised exactly just how much false bravado there had to have been behind her seductress act.

“Whatever you like,” she whispered, biting her lower lip a little uncertainly and looking up at him through slightly lowered lashes. Her words and her shy, uncertain look had his cock twitching eagerly in response. He wondered if there was something in his brain that was programmed to respond to her like women were meant to respond to triangle shapes. Were all men supposed to turn into fools when a girl bit her lip and looked innocent but so _willing?_ Or was that just him?

Putting his embarrassment and discomfort aside for her sake was difficult, but if he was going to do this, he was doing it _properly._

“Let me know when I do something you like, and stop me if I’m doing something you dislike,” he ordered, giving her a piercing look that brooked no argument. This was important. He would not be able to please her without her guidance, and she would have to be _honest_ about it. “You need to be thoroughly…” Stannis swallowed, hardly believing that he was actually saying these things, “... aroused before I do anything more.”

A hint of her previous flirtatious looks flitted across her face. “I’m already _aroused_ , Stannis,” she whispered breathlessly, her blush deepening further. The way her tongue caressed the word ‘aroused’ and then his name had him biting back a groan. It irritated him that she could say a few words and have him become completely distracted. He would never be able to do the same, but perhaps he could still distract her a little… with his hands?

He took a deep breath and placed his hand where her modesty was only covered by little lace panties. Her thighs weren’t parted, so he wasn’t touching her too intimately, but it was still the most intimate way he had touched her so far. She drew in a sharp breath, her lips parting and her eyes glazing over in a way that surprised him. She deliberately parted her thighs, gazing at him in a way he found hard to describe, but knew he would never forget.

He accepted her implied invitation, moving his hand down to touch her through the soft material that covered her. He was glad for her sake that her panties weren’t all lace, as he could imagine it would feel awfully uncomfortable. He moved his fingertips as delicately as he could, though still feeling awfully clumsy, to touch the fabric right where her opening would be located. He let out a surprised, choked breath when he felt how damp the material was.

She had been telling the truth! He felt himself become very hot, then very cold, and then very hot again. His cock twitched excitedly, pulling at his underwear, and he felt a strong urge to move his fingers underneath the damp material of her panties and push one inside of her to feel the moisture at the source.

 _This didn’t mean she was especially attracted to him_ , he told himself ruthlessly, trying to get himself together. She was a teenager and her hormones were probably wildly out of control. When he had been eighteen his body had been liable to become turned on because of a strong gust of wind, for fuck’s sake. Her reaction was a healthy, natural response to being half-naked in bed with a man she did not actively hate.

Thinking of her as a teenager was making him feel like a perverted old lech, so he tried to focus on something else. Anything else.

“That feels really nice,” Sansa said shyly, not bothering to lower her voice since it was a normal thing to say in this situation. If Baelish was still watching - Gods, Stannis hoped he wasn’t - it would not seem out of place. “Just - yes - gently like that…” she added with a sigh.

Stannis clenched his jaw and started to stroke Sansa as carefully as he was able, watching her face like a hawk, trying to discern where she enjoyed his touch the most and whether she was even slightly uncomfortable. He was relatively certain that the pink flush, colouring her cheeks, her neck and her chest, was not a sign of discomfort, and he was also sure that she would not have parted her thighs even further if she wanted him to stop. He was glad that her eyes were closed and that she was unable to see the look of dumfounded amazement that must surely be apparent on his face.

Shaking his head a little to clear it, he continued to stroke her, soon discovering how she preferred to be touched. He was still watching her face for the signs, but she made it easy for him by moaning loudly with pleasure every time he hit a spot she liked.

“Please, could you - I want - um,” Sansa whimpered after a little while, squirming around and pulling at the white lace that covered her pointedly; she obviously wanted them off. Her breasts were heaving with her deep, slow breaths, an occasional shudder thrown in, and her nipples were puckered even though she was obviously not cold.

He closed his eyes and started to peel her panties downwards, trying to think of it as just another task to be completed. When he was compelled to open his eyes to actually be able to complete said task, he was overwhelmed by the eroticism of sliding white lace over soft, smooth skin. He wished he could just rip them off and be done with it instead of enduring the slow torture of carefully dragging them down her thighs, over her dimpled knees, toned calves and perfect little feet. He noticed that her toenails were painted a colour that reminded him of pearls, and that her big toe was slightly longer than the toe next to it, making her foot perfectly symmetrical. _Was there any part of her that was not beautiful?_

With her panties off and carelessly thrown on the floor, Sansa was naked before him. There was no triangle of hair where he would have expected to see one, but he could tell that it was because the hairs had been removed, not because they didn’t grow there. Sansa followed his eyes and she must have thought he was surprised or curious, because she took it upon herself to explain the total absence of hair.

“Most men don’t want anything getting in the way, so we all get everything waxed,” she explained vaguely with a blush. Stannis supposed ‘we all’ referenced the other girls on the List. He clenched his jaw in response to her explanation, nodding brusquely. Selyse had kept everything pretty neat, but she had never removed _everything._ Stannis didn’t really think it mattered whether a woman had hair down there or not, but he thought it should be her own choice to keep it or remove it. Especially since he was aware that waxing could be rather painful. Renly never stopped complaining about how much it hurt to get his chest waxed, and Stannis was pretty sure there weren’t nearly as many nerve endings on a man’s chest as there were between a woman’s legs. Knowing that the women on the List all _had_ to have everything removed left a bad taste in his mouth.

Sansa made an impatient noise and squirmed around a bit, bringing him out of his reverie and reminding him of what he’d been doing before she had asked him to remove her final shred of modesty. He decided to lie back down beside her, resting on his side and partially covering her body with his. He wanted to shield her a little, but he also liked feeling her naked skin against his, her warmth and her softness. He hoped she didn’t mind how sticky his chest and abdomen were against her. (If she didn’t like it she had only herself to blame.)

She moaned rather loudly when his hand found its way back between her thighs, and he had to bite back a groan himself. It was rather a different experience to touch her without any fabric getting in the way, even if the fabric had been very flimsy. She was so _wet._ His heart was pounding frantically at the idea that he had managed to have even a little bit to do with it, even as he valiantly tried to remind himself that he probably hadn’t. His fingers were gliding easily along her smooth, hairless, _wet_ folds, and it was not difficult to seek out the spot she liked him to touch. He need only have listened to her moans, but he could also feel with his fingertips where her little bundle of nerves was hidden, and he was sure that if he had looked, it could have seen it. She did not seem to like it when he touched it too directly, however, based on how she would jump or flinch whenever he did, so he focused on rubbing the area around it, trying to establish some sort of consistent rhythm. She moaned quite a lot, and seemed to be enjoying herself, but it was not as if her pleasure was building towards any sort of crescendo as he had hoped it would. For the first time in his life he wished he was more like Robert. Robert probably knew exactly how to get a woman off quickly without fumbling about like a green boy. Or at least he _should_ given the amount of practise he had amassed over the years.

He wondered if he should try using his mouth. He didn’t have a lot of experience doing that either, but he had read about it, and he’d managed to please Selyse that way occasionally. Before they had moved to separate bedrooms. 

Stannis waited a little longer, agonising over the decision. He wasn’t sure Sansa would want him to do something quite that intimate. But she _had_ left it in his hands to decide what he did for her, and his fingers did not seem to be doing the trick. He wanted to bring her to her peak before he attempted to put his cock anywhere near her, because he knew that she would need to be utterly relaxed and receptive in order to come away from the experience unhurt.

His cock disagreed vehemently, of course, demanding relief as soon as possible. He was trying to ignore it, but it became more difficult with every minute that went by. If he was going to give her an orgasm it might be better to get it done sooner rather than later, or he would not be of much use to her once he was inside her. Perhaps she would not care about that, but he had his pride, damn it. He wanted her first experience to be a little more than a man shoving himself inside of her, rolling his eyes into the back of his head and coming right then and there.

“I would like to try using my mouth on you, is that acceptable?” he asked awkwardly, a little embarrassed by the question. He was still touching her, and she had her eyes closed and her lips parted to allow her moans of pleasure to escape.

Sansa opened her eyes at his question, turning her face towards his until their noses almost touched.

“Oh, um, if you want to. I guess,” she answered and she was blushing with embarrassment now, not just arousal. He was oddly relieved by her awkward response, glad that he was not the only one feeling awkward and embarrassed about all of this. Unwilling to prolong the uncomfortable moment, he moved to kneel between her thighs. It took him a while to find a comfortable position, but eventually he managed to figure something out. “Please don’t close your thighs around my head,” he muttered quickly, not waiting for a response and not looking into her eyes. Hopefully she would do as he requested.

His first taste of her was tentative, and he was surprised when she jumped a little. He looked up at her reprovingly. “Try not to move.”

“Sorry,” she said shyly, “it just felt so different from anything I’ve felt before. Good different.”

Confidence slightly bolstered by her words, he bent back to his task. It had been a few years, but he still remembered a few things. Flattening his tongue, he proceeded to lap steadily at her, moving from her soft passage, up towards where she would gasp when his tongue came into contact with her. He felt a little guilty for thinking it, but it was rather nice not to have any hair in the way while he did this. She was smooth, and soft and she did not taste unpleasant. He wouldn’t describe the taste as exactly pleasant, either, but the taste was indubitably that of an aroused female, and the scent matched. Knowing that she was wet and ready, unmistakably so, was really quite dizzyingly arousing for him in turn.

His erection throbbed warningly, almost as if to tell him to hurry it up already.

Luckily, Sansa was obviously moving towards some kind of peak. Her moans were becoming louder, and she was still gasping every time his tongue went near that hidden bundle of nerves. Remembering an old trick, Stannis decided to focus his attention on that spot, lathing it with his tongue at first, and then when she was just about crying out, sucking greedily at it.

“Oh, Gods! _Stannis!_ ”

She had been very good about staying still and keeping her thighs parted up until now. As she climaxed she arched her back and pushed herself firmly against his mouth, apparently desiring _more_. He knew better than to overstimulate her, however, and moved his mouth away before she could give into the temptation to trap his head between her thighs. It was really so uncomfortable when that happened. He looked up at her instead, curious to see the effect he had produced.

She whimpered at the loss of contact and opened her blue doe eyes, gazing at him imploringly and pouting like a child denied a second helping of dessert. His cock jumped when he noticed that she had obviously been touching one of her nipples as he had been busy. When she saw that he was looking at the hand she moved it away, her face going crimson. He couldn’t help raising an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“I think you should be adequately prepared by now,” he said very quietly, hoping his voice would not carry if anyone was still observing them.

“Mmm,” she moaned in a way that Stannis understood to mean something along the lines of ‘yes.’ He felt a measure of pride at having left her speechless, but quickly squashed the feeling. What he was doing was nothing to be proud of.

Trying not to focus too much on his guilt, he hurriedly discarded his underwear, half hoping that she wouldn’t look and half hoping that she _would_ and that she would be impressed. He threw metaphorical rocks at that part of himself and made sure that he did _not_ observe whether her eyes looked down at his erection. and moved into position between her thighs, placing one elbow on either side of her, hovering over her and looking into her eyes. He didn’t really want to look into her eyes as he did this, but he forced himself to. He owed her that much. She stared up at him, wide-eyed and obviously both afraid of what was about to happen and excited by it.

Stannis thought of all the nonsense that had come out of his mouth when he had been pretending to do this to her, and found that he couldn’t remember a single word of it. He couldn’t come up with anything comforting or soothing to say to her. What use would empty words be, anyway?

He ended up saying the only thing he could actually put some meaning behind.

“Forgive me.”

He hoped she was seeing his sincerity in his eyes. When she blinked a few times and gave him an understanding look, he almost broke his promise to himself to keep looking at her. He did not deserve her understanding or her acceptance. He dearly wished to squeeze his eyes shut and pretend this wasn’t happening, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open, and she continued to give him that awful understanding look, making everything worse by giving him a small, sweet smile.

He used a hand to guide himself to her entrance and started to push into her. He was obliged to go slowly as she was _tight,_ but it was mostly difficult to move forwards at first. Sansa’s breath hitched as he did his best to move forward gently, but eventually he was forced to push rather insistently and she let out a long shuddering breath, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. As soon as the head of his cock was inside it became slightly easier, and she really was quite _amazingly_ wet.

It was impossible to be inside Sansa and remember to feel guilty and horrible. As soon as he was buried to the hilt his only thoughts were of how in the seven hells he had gone without having sex for so long. Had he somehow convinced himself that he wasn’t missing anything that good? Because that was a lie. He usually didn’t lie to himself, though. Maybe Sansa just felt especially good?

He heard a long, drawn out moan and was surprised when he realised it came from him. Sansa wasn’t making any noise aside from breathing loudly and quite fast. As she had closed her eyes, it was a little easier for him to watch her. He didn’t think she looked like she was in pain, but it was hard to be sure. He stayed still just in case, waiting for her breathing to become more even.

It was agony mixed with bliss. 

Every instinct in his body was urging him to move, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the instinctual urges. He was not doing this for _himself_. What he wanted was not a priority. What he wanted was of absolutely no consequence, and he should not forget it.

When he was just about to crack and prompt her to speak, she opened her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. “That wasn’t so bad. It’s not painful, just like I’m sort of stretched and… _full._ ” She looked at him curiously, obviously wondering what he thought of it all.

She probably didn’t realise it, but what she had said had fed a very starved part of his ego. A part of his ego that wanted to take pride in making her speechless by using his mouth on her, and wanted her to think he had a big cock that made her feel full and stretched. It did not matter to this part of his ego that a virgin would probably feel stretched by anything that wasn’t _miniscule._

It was also a part of his ego that did not want him to say what he was about to say.

“This is enough. We don’t have to do anything more,” he said through gritted teeth. He felt a drop of sweat roll down the back of neck, and more beads of moisture forming on his forehead. He felt like every muscle in his body was tensed and coiled, ready to spring into action, only just barely restrained. He very much wanted to give her more for her first time, his pride chafing at the idea of calling it quits at this point, but he wanted it to be her choice.

“No, please keep going,” Sansa whispered heatedly, making him wonder for a moment if he had imagined her words because it was exactly what he most wanted to hear.

“Please, Stannis. It’s okay,” she added, shifting to angle her hips into a more welcoming pose and wrapping her long legs around him to nudge him somehow deeper within her. Her movements managed to convince him that he was not having a vivid hallucination after all, and he tentatively started to move, groaning with relief and pleasure at the glorious friction. He watched her very carefully - despite wanting to close his eyes and enjoy the sensations emanating from where they were joined - trying to gauge how much to pull out, and at which speed and with how much force to re-enter. She seemed to like the soft touch, which was probably fortunate as he was still rather tender in certain areas. He ended up moving his hips slowly and deliberately, but always pulling a little further out each time. Eventually he was pulling slowly nearly all the way out and then sinking just as deliberately back into her heat, the tight pull of her absolutely maddening to endure without speeding up.

Sansa was sighing and moaning continuously, and she had unwound her legs from around him to allow him a better range of movement, pulling her knees towards her chest to open herself up to him further. He was sorely tempted to pull her calves up and over his shoulders, but such a position would only make him want to speed up and he’d end up being much too rough. For her sake and for the sake of his own sensitive parts, he therefore left her legs alone and continued at his slow pace, watching her in fascination. She kept her eyes closed for the most part, her brow a little furrowed, her lips parted as she gave voice to her pleasure. Her skin was flushed pink, a sheen of perspiration making it a little sticky. But that was fine, he was rather sticky with sweat and other things, too. Whenever she opened her eyes he could see that they were glazed over, but she sometimes caught his eye and gave him a small smile.

Going slowly meant that he was lasting much longer than he otherwise might have, but she was very _very_ tight, and he was only human.

“I’m close,” he gasped, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

“You can go faster if you like,” Sansa whispered temptingly.

He let out a guttural, strangled sound that sounded more animal than human, and without his conscious mind’s approval, his hips started thrusting forward much faster, out of control and erratic, no rhythm or thought behind the desperate movements. The pleasure of it was enough to overpower the tender, uncomfortable sensation that was lingering in his sac, but he knew he'd pay for this later. Sansa cried out the first time he pulled nearly all the way out and thrust himself back in fast and hard, but it was not a cry of pain, and it spurred him on to repeat the motion. It felt indescribably good to finally thrust into her with complete abandon, lost in a haze of pleasure, her torturously tight grip resulting in the kind of friction that shut down every part of his brain except the one that could sense how _delicious_ it felt. The moments right before his orgasm were generally always the most satisfying moments of any race towards release, but he was certain that it had never been quite _this_ good. He couldn’t keep the fast, desperate pace up for very long, and all too soon he was spending himself inside of her, his sac tightening up and emptying itself for the second time that night as his hips surged forward one last time. He heard himself groaning as if he were being run through with a sword, and thought it was ironic as it was in fact Sansa who was being impaled with _his_ sword. She did not sound unhappy about it, however, and was moaning his name, a pretty song that he was enjoying more than he should.

The high of the last few moments before his climax had been unbelievable, but it meant that crashing down to earth was all the more painful (not to mention tender). He rolled to the side, lying flat on his back and grimacing as he realised that he had done exactly what he had promised himself he _wouldn’t_ do. He had started to think about himself first, forgetting that he was doing this for Sansa, and for a host of reasons that meant he should not have allowed himself to get so lost in a selfish quest to find his own release.

He was relieved that he had made sure to take care of Sansa first, as he was pretty sure that she hadn’t peaked while he had been busy rutting into her without a care in the world.

Sansa got on her side, pulling the covers up to keep them warm now that they were no longer exercising. Under the covers she threw a leg across his body, while above the covers she buried her face in the crook of his neck and placed a palm over his heart, moving her thumb back and forth softly. “Thank you,” she breathed against the stubble that grew on his neck, her lips pressing against him warmly. He could feel something wet and viscous seeping out of her where she was pressed against his thigh, and added another mess to his list. _Lipstick, strawberry juice, massage oil, chocolate syrup, saliva, and his seed mixed with some of Sansa’s own moisture._ Seven hells, he needed a shower.

Too bad a shower would not be able to wash away the stain on his honour.

Had she really just thanked him?

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, his face settling into the familiar pattern of a scowl.

“The correct way to accept gratitude is to say: ‘you’re welcome’,” Sansa said against his neck, her voice a little muffled. He couldn’t tell if she was amused, exasperated, or irritated.

He huffed out an annoyed breath, making his dislike for the courtesy lesson known.

Sansa raised herself up so that she could look down on his face. Her eyes looked determined. “I’m glad we did this, Stannis,” she whispered firmly, “for the past months, ever since I got back to King’s Landing, I’ve been wondering when Petyr would finally break down and take me to his bed, or sitting quietly and hoping to the Gods that Gregor Clegane won’t decide to pretend that I tried to run away and say that he only hurt me for that reason.” Sansa paused to take a few deep breaths, obviously overcome with emotion. “I had started to accept that I would likely end up either raped by Petyr, or if I was unlucky, I’d get ripped to shreds by the Mountain.” Sansa’s voice was shaking slightly, but she was still going strong, even though she was whispering. “I am so grateful that my first time was with someone of my own choosing. Please accept my thanks, and if you still feel like I need to forgive you, accept my forgiveness too.”

Stannis swallowed a few times. What could he possibly say to such a speech?

He ended up going with a hoarse “you’re welcome,” as that was what Sansa had suggested. It was a good choice, because it made her smile. Seeing her smile had his foolish heart leaping, and he suppressed a groan at his own stupidity.

“You may frown more than anyone I’ve ever met, but I really like you,” she whispered, still smiling, “and I hope you like me, too.”

Stannis wasn’t sure if he could claim to like her. The word ‘like’ seemed much too mundane and not nearly _important_ enough to describe the complex mess of feelings he was trying to sort through. It didn’t seem like the time or place to really get into that, so he just nodded and hummed a noise of assent. Sansa pressed herself closer to him, making her own humming noise of contentedness. When she pressed herself closer Stannis could feel more of their mingled fluids seeping out of her, and he decided they should really get cleaned up. He liked being clean and non-sticky. Even though Stannis had been too busy to really make a note of it when he had been inside the washroom, he vaguely recalled seeing a big, old fashioned claw-footed bathtub in there. He preferred showers, but he had not seen a stall, so he supposed a bath was his only option.

Stannis told Sansa he wanted a bath, and should probably not have been surprised when she insisted on joining him. If she had suggested such a thing earlier in the evening he would have gone red at the very thought of bathing with Sansa, but he supposed it didn’t make much of a difference now. Still, the idea of soaking in warm water with Sansa leaning against his front, her breasts within easy reach and her body all wet and slick with soap…

It was a good thing he was completely spent, and rather sore, otherwise he was sure his thoughts would be causing a reaction down below.

Sansa offered to go and draw them a bath, saying that she wanted clean up a little before getting in the tub. She blushed as she spoke, and moved against his thigh to draw attention to the wet mess that he was already quite aware of. He told her to just call him when she wanted him to join her and was secretly very relieved that she would be the first one to get out of bed. He really didn’t want to have to stand up completely naked with her looking at him. Although he was sure she would have looked away, it would still have felt awkward. He made sure not to look at her as she moved across the room to the washroom door, closing his eyes and stewing in his guilt because he really wanted to peek.

He heard water start running into the bathtub, and relaxed. The minutes ticked by and he wondered if he shouldn’t collect his clothes and take them with him to the washroom when Sansa called him. It would save him from having to walk around in a towel to pick them up later, perhaps with Sansa watching him.

Feeling acutely aware of the possibility that someone _else_ might still be watching the room, even though it was the middle of the night and most _normal_ people should be sleeping, he hurriedly got out of bed, found his discarded underwear and pulled it on.

He had just finished locating the last article of his rumpled clothing (his tie) when Sansa called for him.

“You can come in now! Could you bring my robe?”

Stannis looked down on his armful of clothing and frowned, but figured a light silk robe would not add much to his burden. He located it and added it to his pile, walking towards the door that separated him from Sansa and the water and soap he desperately wanted. She donned it as soon as he brought it within reach and it clung to her every curve, leaving nothing much to the imagination. Not that he had to imagine anything. He’d seen it all.

So why was he still sneaking looks at her like he’d never encountered a woman before?

Sansa proceeded to walk around the room, dimming the lights and lighting candles. Stannis raised an eyebrow at that. Surely no one would be watching them in here? Why continue the farce?

“I just thought it would be nice,” Sansa answered his silent question, a hint of a blush colouring her cheeks, and she lit a few more tea lights with a shrug that was probably supposed to look nonchalant.

Stannis accepted her explanation with a curt nod. After what he’d done, he could tolerate candles if that was what she wanted.

They did an awkward sort of dance around each other by the claw-footed bathtub, both trying to protect each other’s modesty even though it was rather late for that, both trying to figure out a way to get into a bathtub without looking too clumsy. Stannis ended up stripping while Sansa studiously looked at the ceiling, getting into the warm (bubbly?) water with a small relieved sigh. He had not been in a bubble bath since he was a child, but the bubbles did allow for a bit of modesty, so he was not entirely put out with Sansa adding them. He’d come away from the experience smelling rather effeminate, but at least he’d be _clean._

Sansa clipped her hair up and then let her robe slide off her naked form, her faint blush deepening. He looked away, but not quite quickly enough. Her skin looked even more beautiful in the warm candle light, and with her hair up he could see her graceful, long neck more easily. He wished he could think of an excuse to kiss it...

Soon she had settled herself in front of him in the water, leaning her back against his chest just as he had pictured. He was obliged to part his legs so that she could fit herself between them, but that was all right as he was still too spent and tender to become physically aroused at the feel of her body pressed so intimately against him. The water and the bubbles rose just high enough to hide her breasts for the most part, so this was all as platonic as a candlelit bubble bath could possible get. In the quiet that followed after Sansa got in and water stopped splashing around, Stannis became aware of the music he had been ignoring for most of the night. He wondered where it was coming from as it was almost as if it was emitting from the walls. The music was still the same kind of relaxing, instrumental background noise as it had been earlier, and it helped fill the silence now that neither of them were speaking.

For a long while they both just soaked in the soapy water without saying anything, but eventually Sansa broke the silence.

“Thanks for letting me hijack your bath. I know you probably would have skipped the candles and the bubbles and everything,” she said softly, a note of wry amusement in her tone.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered awkwardly.

“It’s just - I’ve always pictured myself doing this after I, um...” she trailed off shyly.

 _Oh._ Of course she would have pictured herself having her first time with someone who loved her, and would jump at the chance to join her in a bubble bath after. He was relieved that he hadn’t made a fuss over it or tried to prevent her from having a moment that she had dreamt of. Even if it was with him and not someone more appropriate. But he was what she had on hand, and she seemed content to make do for some bizarre reason.

“I’ve been thinking... Won’t Petyr be surprised at you for bidding on me and actually _doing stuff_ with me?” Sansa asked in a whisper, obviously trying to change the topic, “you’re not exactly the type to do this.”

Stannis had been thinking about the same thing at the back of his mind, and he thought he knew what to say to explain why he was breaking character.

“If he asks you about it, you should tell him that it did not seem as if I recognised you - Baelish knows I’ve not been in contact with the Stark family since you were about ten years old, so he should believe that - but that I understood that you were a girl my brother might be interested in. Tell him that I seemed pleased with the idea of taking something that my brother would have wanted for himself.”

Sansa rose up a little so that she could look over her shoulder at him, both eyebrows raised.

“You think he’d buy that rather than, I don’t know, you seeing me sing and falling in love with me?”

“Baelish would never believe that I had fallen in love,” Stannis said brusquely. He, himself, wouldn’t have believed it either.

“But still! You’re making yourself sound so bitter and spiteful! Just wanting to beat your brother to the punch…” Sansa was still looking at him with wide eyes. It almost seemed like she was very sad for him, and it made his stomach clench up uncomfortably.

“It’s what Baelish would believe,” Stannis said curtly, not wishing to continue the conversation and really not wishing to continue meeting her blue, sympathetic gaze.

“Why would he believe that?” Sansa asked, careful to keep her voice down but obviously not ready to let the matter drop, “I know you and Robert have never had the best relationship, but really!”

Stannis ground his teeth together in annoyance. He didn’t really want to tell Sansa what had happened on his wedding night, but he knew that Baelish knew, and it would be what would convince Baelish of Stannis’ motivation.

He took a deep breath and touched Sansa’s shoulder to indicate that she should rest her head against him again. It was probably uncomfortable to twist her head around to look at him like that, and he didn’t want to see her eyes when he told her his pathetic story.

“I didn’t really want to marry Selyse Florent, but for some reason Robert thought it would help his political career, and he just bullied me into it. I hadn’t really intended to ever get married, since women weren’t exactly lining up for the privilege, but it didn’t seem so terrible to have someone to come home to at the end of the day, and I liked the idea of perhaps having a child or two,” Stannis was really glad that Sansa wasn’t looking at him, because his words sounded even more pathetic said out loud than they had inside his head.

“Selyse had a cousin called Delena, a much more pleasant woman than Selyse by far, who would have done just as well for me, and been just as helpful for Robert’s purposes. But Robert deliberately foisted Selyse on me rather than Delena,” Stannis couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into his tone as he spoke of Delena.

Stannis was _certain_ that Robert had seen the way Stannis had looked at Delena at that first dinner party with the Florents, and he was _certain_ that Robert had set about making sure that Stannis would not have the Florent girl that was most to his liking. 

In retrospect Stannis felt bad about how both he, Robert and the head of the Florent family had acted, behaving as if Selyse and Delena were so much chattel to be bought and sold to help cement some political alliances. Stannis liked to think that he had improved his stance on such things after his unfortunate experiences.

“When Selyse and I were married, we were to spend our wedding night in the bridal suite of the hotel where the reception was held. When we eventually arrived at the suite after the reception wound down, we found Robert and Delena _in flagrante delicto_ on what was to be our wedding bed.”

Stannis stopped talking, surprised at the intense wave of anger that still rose to the surface at the thought of that night. Even though it had been _years._

Sansa placed a comforting hand on his knee under the water, rubbing her thumb back and forth soothingly. “I’m so sorry, Stannis. That must have been awful,” she whispered sympathetically.

“Yes, well. I’m sure Baelish has heard the story, and he’ll hopefully think that I wanted revenge on my brother badly enough to bid a fortune on you,” he snapped out, irritated and pricklish over her sympathetic reaction. He did not need her _pity_.

“You’re right. It would be something Petyr would understand,” Sansa said softly, still caressing his knee under the water.

Stannis attempted to calm himself down and put the anger and hurt that his memories had stirred away. Sansa did not deserve to be snapped at. None of this was her fault.

They were quiet for another long stretch of time, and Stannis thought he recognised the song that was playing. A very mellow instrumental version of _Just Like a Woman,_ if he was correct. It seemed uncomfortably appropriate.

The water was barely warm, and the bubbles weren’t really hiding her breasts anymore, when Sansa finally decided to stand up and wrap a towel around herself. Stannis managed not to look this time, although he was as tempted as ever. She picked up her silk robe and set about blowing out the little tea lights, turning the regular electric lights up when she was done.

“I’ll let you finish up in peace,” she said sweetly, leaving through the door and closing it with a soft click behind her.

Stannis took a moment to just breathe and try to process their earlier conversation. He wasn’t sure why he had told her much as he had, except that it had seemed important for her to understand why Baelish might believe Stannis decided to bid on her out of spite. He hoped that Sansa didn’t really think he’d ever do something so pitiful, as Stannis liked to think he was above playing the kind of games Robert had in their youth. He didn’t want Sansa to think he was petty and cruel. He might be bitter, but he was never cruel. He was _just._ Or at least he tried his hardest to be, though he didn’t know if his behaviour tonight could be counted as being very just…

He found a washcloth and proceeded to rub himself down with it, hoping to remove all the sticky residue that might still be clinging to him after the long soak. He let the bathwater run down the drain and rinsed himself off with some fresh water from the tap.

Once he was dry, Stannis wished he had a fresh pair of underwear to put on, but made do with what he had. He was just trying to decide whether to put the rest of his clothes on when Sansa knocked gently at the door.

“It’s open,” he said, wondering if she had forgotten something.

Sansa opened the door and stepped inside, her eyes giving him a quick once over and her cheeks turning faintly pink. “Jeyne was just at the door, she told me that Petyr went to sleep a while ago, and left her to keep tabs on us for him. She said she only checked on us periodically to see if I was all right. I thought you’d want to know.”

A huge wave of relief washed over Stannis. Petyr had hopefully not seen their _real_ intimate moments.

“Can you trust this Jeyne?” he asked seriously, even though he almost wanted to smile.

“She’s my friend, but she wouldn’t be able to keep a secret from Petyr. We should still be careful not to be overheard.”

“Of course,” he said, meeting Sansa’s eyes and wondering why she seemed so flustered. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought she was embarrassed at his state of undress, but she hadn’t really seemed flustered by that before, so that could hardly be it.

“Okay, I’ll let you finish. Sorry,” she blurted out, turning on her heel and disappearing into the bedroom.

Stannis decided to get dressed as Petyr was no longer around to become suspicious about it. He did his best, but he ended up looking thoroughly rumpled, and his shirt collar had some very obvious lipstick marks on it. It would just look ridiculous to do his tie up properly when the rest of his suit looked the way it did, so he left the knot loose and didn’t do all the buttons of his shirt up.

He joined Sansa in the bedroom and observed that she was naked under her silk robe. It was both fairly easy to tell, and he could also see her corselette and her panties on the floor. Her pretty red hair was still clipped up and away from her neck, but a few damp tendrils were sticking to her skin. She was perched on the edge of the bed, seemingly a little at loose ends.

“What time is it?” he asked, both out of curiosity and just for something to say.

“It’s just after five in the morning,” Sansa answered, a small smile playing on her lips, “time flies…”

Had she just indicated that she thought the night had been fun? Stannis fought to keep an expression of surprise from appearing on his face. He scowled instead, staring at his socked feet. _Where were his shoes?_ Sansa had said something about fun earlier on, too.

_”I’ve been having as much fun with you tonight as it is possible to have under the circumstances.”_

Her words echoed inside his head, and he still felt completely baffled by them. To him there was nothing remotely _fun_ about what they had been doing. Maybe he would have felt differently if she were a little older, and they had been doing all of this because they had met under different circumstances and taken a liking to each other… But those kinds of things did not happen to him. Beautiful, intelligent and kind young women did not meet him and come away from the experience thinking it would be a great idea to feed him strawberries, give him massages, and lick chocolate off his person. They usually took one look at his scowling face and did an immediate heel-face-turn. Additionally, there was nothing _fun_ about painful sexual frustration. He was _still_ feeling acutely uncomfortable and tender down there.

 _The sex had been enjoyable, though,_ said the voice in his head that sounded rather like Robert.

That wasn’t the point.

The point was... the point was something else, probably.

His eyes came to rest on one of his shoes, half hidden by the bedspread that had fallen to the floor. He bent to pick it up, and found the other one under the rich, blue material. Stannis sat down a respectable distance away from Sansa on the bed and started to tie his dress shoes back on. They had been polished to a high shine before he left his house an eternity ago, and they still looked pretty decent.

“Do you have to go?” Sansa asked in a small voice when he straightened back up.

“I have a lot of arrangements to make,” he said seriously, meeting her eyes and regretting it at once. She was giving him such an imploring, pleading look. It reminded him of the looks Shireen usually managed to employ successfully in the past when she had really wanted him to read _”just one more story, Daddy! Please?”_ , or the looks she still managed to use to get him to take her sailing on a Saturday afternoon instead of putting in some extra hours at work.

“Would half an hour really make a difference?” Sansa asked, her big sad eyes making him want to stay for as long as she wanted. Forever, maybe.

“Everyone you’d need to talk to is probably asleep, anyway…” she wheedled, moving herself closer until she was leaning her head on his shoulder and pressing the side of her body to his. One of her hands reached up to play with his tie, tugging on it gently. He had the brief mental image of himself as her pet on a leash, and was surprised when the thought of it didn’t annoy him.

“I suppose I could stay for another half hour,” he whispered hoarsely, wondering what she wanted to do with the time.

As it turned out, she wanted to _cuddle._ Stannis did not cuddle. Except now he apparently did. It was incredibly nice, and Sansa was very soft, warm, and pliant in his arms. When he tried to leave after half an hour, Sansa decided that she wanted to kiss him goodbye, her lips and her gentle hand at his cheek convincing his exhausted brain that it was a great idea, and somehow the half hour turned into forty-five minutes. Before he knew it, someone was knocking on the door, sweetly explaining that his time was unfortunately up.

Had they just been necking? Wasn’t that what it was called when you just kissed and kissed without taking it any further? Whatever it was called, it had felt even nicer than the cuddling. He was pretty sure Sansa had left a mark on his neck where she had been sucking and worrying at the skin pleasantly, but hopefully he’d be able to cover it up when he buttoned his shirt collar up properly. He had tried not to leave any marks on her, but he had very much enjoyed nuzzling her neck and breathing the clean, lemon and sugar scent of her. Perhaps he smelled similar, now? The bubbles in the bath had smelled like that, too.

It was very difficult to get up from the bed and leave her, but he had a feeling that the sweet voice at the door would turn into the dulcet tones of an irritated, sleep-deprived security guard if he didn’t get out in a timely manner.

“Goodbye,” Sansa said softly when he turned around to look at her one last time, his hand on the door handle.

“Goodbye,” he croaked in return, his voice failing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song the chapter is named after, and the song Stannis notices in the bath, is an instrumental cover of Bob Dylan's _Just Like a Woman._ It would sound something like [this](https://youtu.be/L0Km9_drm-I). The lyrics are oddly appropriate for the situation he's in.
> 
> Nobody feels any pain  
> Tonight as I stand inside the rain  
> Ev'rybody knows  
> That Baby's got new clothes  
> But lately I see her ribbons and her bows  
> Have fallen from her curls  
> She takes just like a woman, yes she does  
> She makes love just like a woman, yes she does  
> And she aches just like a woman  
> But she breaks just like a little girl.
> 
> Queen Mary, she's my friend  
> Yes, I believe I'll go see her again  
> Nobody has to guess  
> That Baby can't be blessed  
> Till she finally sees that she's like all the rest  
> With her fog, her amphetamine and her pearls  
> She takes just like a woman, yes she does  
> She makes love just like a woman, yes she does  
> And she aches just like a woman  
> But she breaks just like a little girl.
> 
> It was raining from the first  
> And I was dying there of thirst  
> So I came in here  
> And your long-time curse hurts  
> But what's worse  
> Is this pain in here  
> I can't stay in here  
> Ain't it clear that.
> 
> I just can't fit  
> Yes, I believe it's time for us to quit  
> When we meet again  
> Introduced as friends  
> Please don't let on that you knew me when  
> I was hungry and it was your world  
> Ah, you fake just like a woman, yes you do  
> You make love just like a woman, yes you do  
> Then you ache just like a woman  
> But you break just like a little girl.
> 
>  
> 
> Copyright © 1966 by Dwarf Music; renewed 1994 by Dwarf Music  
> 


	6. A Day and a Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - There are a couple of _very_ dubious scenes with Petyr and Sansa in this chapter. I tried not to draw them out.

Sansa could not believe how her night had gone. She had expected things to continue as they had started, with Stannis reluctantly (and badly!) playing along with her hissed instructions. Her every memory of him involved him being stiff and unapproachable, frowning and a little obsessed with doing everything _properly._ The only time she had seen past his mask was the last time they had spoken, when she had asked him about his frowns and seen him _almost_ smile.

The fact that he had managed to fake taking her virginity convincingly enough to fool Petyr had to have been some sort of miracle, because Petyr would have been watching them very closely at first. She hoped she had managed to make Petyr lose interest in watching by pretending to go down on Stannis, and according to Jeyne that had indeed been the case. Sansa had suspected that Petyr might have felt comfortable with watching Stannis ‘take her virginity’, but watching her apparently pleasure him with her mouth? After Petyr had asked her to drug Stannis and come to his bed instead? According to Jeyne it had made him annoyed enough to storm off.

The truly unbelievable part of her night had started when she felt Stannis respond to her ‘acting coaching’, the erection straining at his cotton boxer briefs leaving her in no doubt that he was just as susceptible to her charms as the next man. And to think that she had been half convinced that it would be easier to seduce a horse!

She had known almost as soon as they had come up with the escape plan that they would need to actually have sex. She had played it down for Stannis, but she knew that Petyr would want to examine her for himself to see whether she was ‘unhurt’.

Knowing that Stannis could respond to her physically had made it easier for her to talk him around to it, but she had been surprised and touched at how vehemently he had wanted to protect her. She had become so used to Petyr, who would have agreed to her plan at once if he had been in Stannis’ shoes, that actually having to cajole Stannis into taking her virginity had been a very welcome and bizarre change. She had needed to use every trick that Petyr had taught her, and every tip gleaned from the other girls in order to relax and seduce him, but doing those things with Stannis hadn’t made her feel like she was using ‘tricks’. She had liked doing them, because if anyone needed to relax it was Stannis, and it had been intensely rewarding to massage the tension from his shoulders, and watch as the wary glint gradually left his eyes. It helped that touching Stannis wasn’t exactly a _chore._ She never would have expected him to be hiding that body under his severe, untailored suits, but she was _very_ pleased to have discovered it.

By the time she had been lighting candles around a bathtub full of scented bubbles she had known that he had become complete putty in her hands. If the bath and the intensely personal story Stannis had told her in the water wasn’t proof enough of that, she had proven it to herself again by successfully getting him to cuddle with her for ages and then make out for nearly twenty minutes. She was pretty sure the skin around her mouth was going to be red for a while after having his stubble rub against her so much.

She was also relatively sure that he would stop at _nothing_ to rescue her now, and she clung to that hope with every desperate cell of her body.

She was trying not to think about how she, herself, had perhaps become putty in _his_ hands, too. (Or perhaps his mouth had something to do with it…) She really hadn’t wanted him to leave, and not just because she would be required to go back to Petyr once he left. She had liked being close to him and protected by him, liked the comfort of his arms, the strength and the hard _physicality_ of his presence. She was trying not to think about any of it because it wouldn’t really help her now.

“Come on, Petyr asked to see you as soon as Mr. Baratheon left,” Jeyne said, bringing Sansa back to the present.

Sansa got up from the bed where she had just been making out with Stannis and tightened the silk cord that tied her robe together. She left the bridal lingerie set lying on the floor, but found her satin slippers and put them on.

“Did he seem angry?” Sansa asked Jeyne, trying to figure out a strategy for her meeting with Petyr.

“You know him, it’s hard to tell,” Jeyne said with a helpless shrug, “but I don’t _think_ so.”

Sansa bit her lip, thinking hard. Petyr had wanted her to drug Stannis, but Stannis had declined anything she offered him. Well, except the strawberries, but she couldn’t have put the draft in them. Perhaps Petyr would think that she hadn’t tried hard enough? Perhaps he would still be annoyed that she appeared to have gone down on Stannis? But he couldn’t blame her for that! He was always telling the girls to do everything in their power to pamper and spoil the customers so that they would feel like they had got their money’s worth.

The were standing outside Petyr’s door now, and Sansa decided to just be ready for anything. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and entered the room as if she owned it. He seemed to like it when she pretended to be a high and mighty lady -- as long as she was polite and did everything he asked.

“Ah, my little sweetling,” Petyr crooned, sidling up to her and putting his arms around her in a mockery of a soothing, fatherly embrace. As usual he pressed her against him a little too firmly, and held on for a little too long.

“How are you feeling?” he said solicitously when he finally pulled away. He was searching her eyes, a shrewd look in his grey-green ones.

“I’m fine,” Sansa said, forcing herself to continue meeting Petyr’s gaze. He’d just lift her chin up if she tried to look at the floor. Sansa was as fine as she ever was with him, so Petyr did not catch her in a lie. He smirked nonetheless, and reached to unclip her hair, letting it tumble down her back in soft, tousled waves. He began to comb his fingers through her tresses, seemingly enjoying himself. Sansa stood still and waited for what he would do next.

“Mr. Baratheon did not hurt you?” he asked seriously after a while.

“No, he was very gentle,” Sansa reported dutifully, “I made sure he made me ready first, and then he went slowly.”

“Good, good. Lie down on the bed and spread your legs. I’m going to see if everything is as it should be, and that nothing is torn,” Petyr spoke gently, but there was a glittering excitement in his eyes that Sansa did not like. He was going to do this _now?_

“Petyr!” she exclaimed, blushing from the roots of her hair and down to her toes, unable to control her body’s reaction to Petyr’s humiliating request.

“It’s all right, I’ll be careful,” he promised, pushing her insistently towards the bed.

“But can’t this wait? I’m a little sore…” she attempted to argue, resisting his pushes.

“If you’re sore it’s even more important that I check and see if you’re in need of any medical assistance,” Petyr’s smirk had widened into an eager smile, completely at odds with his caring, gentle tone.

Sansa had no choice. If she objected, Petyr would become unhappy with her. His displeasure was wholly unpleasant, so she would avoid that at all cost.

Feeling very relieved that she had actually had sex with Stannis, she got on the bed and spread her legs as Petyr had directed. He followed her, sitting beside her and calmly moving her robe out of the way, baring her to his eyes.

It was the first time he had looked at her without at least her underwear on, and his eyes widened and became darker and greedier than she had ever seen them.

“You are a vision, sweetling,” he breathed, his hands twitching and reaching for her.

She closed her eyes and tried to think about happier times, her childhood in Winterfell, playing with her beautiful husky, stealing lemon cakes from the kitchen when her mother had just made a fresh batch, working tirelessly to embroider a beautiful dress for her favourite doll and hearing her mother tell her that she had never seen such perfect stitching, singing to Rickon and Bran - and even Arya sometimes, when she would sit still and listen…

“Well, you two obviously followed the instructions I gave you. It appears as if you barely bled at all. Very good.”

Sansa focused on breathing in and out, trying to ignore Petyr’s fingers probing at her.

“Did he seem to recognise you?” Petyr said nonchalantly, reluctantly removing his fingers and closing her robe again.

“No, I don’t think he would have been able to have sex with me if he had known who I was,” Sansa answered quietly, shifting around to allow Petyr to lie down next to her and put an arm around her.

“I wonder why he decided to spend half his inheritance on you, then...” 

“He thought Robert wanted me, I think. Did you say something to him that might have made him think that?” Sansa asked, trying to plant the idea that Stannis had bid on her so that he could have her before his brother had the chance, in a way that would make Petyr think he came up with it himself.

“Maybe he could have understood me that way,” Petyr said thoughtfully, “and it would make sense for Stannis to finally want revenge on Robert for the stunt he pulled on Stannis’ wedding night.”

“Stunt?” Sansa pretended that she had never heard of Stannis’ wedding night before and listened attentively as Petyr told the story. It matched up to what Stannis had said pretty accurately, although Petyr had some colourful comments to add about most of the players involved. (Apparently Selyse Florent had unfortunate ears and had to have her upper lip waxed regularly.)

“Oh, you’re right, it does make sense for Stannis to want to get Robert back for that,” Sansa said when Petyr had finished telling her the tale of the scandal on Stannis’ wedding night. She made sure to include the words ‘you’re right’ when she spoke because she knew there were no other words that Petyr liked hearing more.

He tightened his grip on her and nuzzled her neck affectionately. She made herself stay still. “Why don’t we get you back home, hmm?” he said at length, having had his fill of kissing her neck and petting her.

“Yes, Petyr.”

***

Once they had arrived at Petyr’s townhouse and he had watched her down a cup of moon tea, she had been able to get away from him by claiming exhaustion. She had been up the whole night, after all, so Petyr told her to get some sleep, and that he’d talk to her when she woke up.

It was well past noon now, and Sansa had woken up. But she did not want to talk to Petyr. She was afraid that he would want to do more than talk, and the idea of it was repellant. She had always tolerated his kisses and touches, at first because they had been exciting, new and flattering, but eventually because she had found out what happened when she resisted his attentions.

The first time she had turned her head away and petulantly said that she did not like kissing him like that, that she had a crush on… oh, whoever it had been that she had been fond of at that point, and only wanted to kiss that boy, Petyr had only locked her in her room. A relatively mild punishment, but it had not felt like it at the time. Her room did not have an en suite, and there had been nothing to eat or drink. He hadn’t let her out for a day and a night, and she had been forced to use her waste-paper bin to do her business. She had barely been able to sleep due to her hunger.

When he had opened the door, bringing her a tasty sandwich, a bottle of ice-cold water, and a lemon cake for dessert, she had cried and promised never to displease him again.

It was a promise she hadn’t quite been able to keep, and Petyr had punished her a few more times. The worst had been when he had made her stand in her underwear on the balcony of the high rise they had lived in when they had been in the Eyrie for more than an hour, nearly freezing to death because it had been so cold…

Sansa shook her head a little, as if the motion would help her shake the memory off like so much water.

It was no use to hide in her room, she needed to eat something of more substance than strawberries and chocolate syrup, and she‘d have to face Petyr eventually. Maybe it would be better if it was the middle of the day?

“I was just about to check on you, sweetling,” Petyr said when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m okay, just hungry,” Sansa tried to keep her tone light, smiling sweetly at Petyr and turning to walk towards the kitchen. Petyr followed in her wake, a talkative shadow.

He was explaining how much money he had made last night, telling her how much of it was only due to _her,_ saying that he’d already received requests for her to be included on the List next time, many rich and powerful men having been charmed by her singing.

“I thought you said I wouldn’t have to go back on the List if you made enough money this time,” Sansa said, unable to help the slightly accusatory tone that snuck into her voice.

“My mind isn’t made up one way or the other, sweetling,” Petyr said mildly, smirking at her faintly. He seemed slightly amused, and his eyes were raking over her form repeatedly and unashamedly.

“I think I will definitely have you perform again, at least. Your singing really got the men going. The bidding activity increased significantly after your act, and not only the bidding on _you_.”

“Whatever you say, Petyr,” Sansa said meekly, her blood boiling with rage under her skin. She tried to calm herself down, thinking that soon she would be away from him. If everything went according to plan, she would be free by this time tomorrow.

Sansa put a couple of eggs in a saucepan of water, turning the heat on with a few practised jabs at the touch panel of the electric stove. She was in the mood for a soft-boiled egg with a bit of salt, and perhaps a thick slice of bread with a lot of butter to go with it.

“I’d like you to sleep in my room tonight, Sansa,” Petyr said, his voice coming from a very short distance away. He had moved right up close to her, his lips near her ear, his hands hovering near her waist and obviously itching to grab at her. She didn’t like it when he called her sweetling, but she _hated_ when he called her Sansa.

“Just sleep?” she asked hopefully, trying to ignore his body invading her personal space, focusing on cutting the fresh loaf of bread she had found. There was flour on top of the crisp crust, and it was sticking to her fingers.

“You know what I mean,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck.

“Can’t we wait at least another day? I’m still rather sore… Stannis was gentle, but he wasn’t _small._ ” Sansa almost wanted to giggle at Petyr’s annoyed expression. He obviously did not like her mention of Stannis, or being reminded of the fact that Stannis had his _not small_ self inside of her not so long ago. Sansa kept her face straight, however. She had learnt to mask her emotions shortly after Petyr had first locked her in her room.

“We can talk about it later, sweetling.”

Sansa spent the rest of the day dreading their next conversation. She was unable to focus on anything, walking around her room in a daze, periodically checking on the large dose of the sleeping draft Jeyne had helped her smuggle from the room with the view. It was hidden inside an old music box, the little plastic ballerina an odd sort of guard for the precious drug.

She had finally managed to settle down enough to flip through an old magazine when there was a knock at her door. She jumped, her heart starting to beat frantically, but managed to calm herself down so that she would at least _appear_ relaxed.

It was Petyr at the door, but he had not come to talk to her about whether she would sleep with him that night. He had only come to fetch her for dinner.

They spoke of inconsequential things as they dined on a healthy meal of fresh salad, grilled salmon, and sweet potatoes. Petyr always made sure to eat balanced nutritional meals, and he exercised every day. He always said it was for his health, and that he wanted to live a long life, but Sansa knew he was also interested in keeping his trim figure. She still remembered the tantrum he had thrown when he had received a new suit that was made to his measurements, only to try it on and find that his measurements were no longer accurate. (He hadn’t known that she had secretly changed the numbers on his order form. It had been petty, but very satisfying.)

He never imposed any restrictions on her diet, but she had a feeling that would change the second her body started to show signs of being less than perfectly slender.

“How are you feeling?” Petyr asked, his tone caring but his eyes glittering with excitement.

“Still a bit sore, but I think I ought to be good as new tomorrow,” Sansa said, trying to keep her tone light.

"I would still like you to sleep with me tonight. We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with, but I think you should get used to staying with me."

Oh, how _generous_ , Sansa thought, they wouldn't have to do anything she was uncomfortable with. Sure.

"Of course, Petyr," Sansa replied, keeping her seething resentment hidden.

The rest of the night was ruined for Sansa. She kept wondering what Petyr would want her to do, and what _he_ would want to do to _her._ She did not regret vetoing Stannis’ plan to burst in with the police today, but a small part of her wished that it could have been possible to do it that way. If it had been a workable plan she would be free now and she would not be worrying over what Petyr would force her to do in his bed. She clung to the hope that he would honour his word and not make her do anything she was uncomfortable with, but it was a fool’s hope and she knew it.

It was almost a relief when Petyr finally told her to come to bed, because at least the waiting and wondering would be over soon. Sansa often found that the dread of a thing could be worse than the thing itself. _At least he’s not the Mountain,_ she thought to herself, trying to look on the bright side. And she would only have to make it through this one night. Tomorrow morning she would escape far from Petyr’s reach. Robert would protect her. _Stannis_ would protect her.

Petyr gave her a beautiful midnight blue nightgown to wear, with a plunging neckline and a short lacy hem. It was a very grown-up sort of nightgown, something for a woman to wear, not a teenager. He was already in bed when she emerged from his en suite wearing the thing. She had left her hair down, knowing that Petyr preferred it that way.

“Ah, sweetling, you are sight for sore eyes,” Petyr said, closing the book that he had been reading and placing it on the nightstand, “come here.”

Sansa obediently crawled into bed next to him, burrowing under the covers so that she could feel the false security they provided.

At first Petyr just held her and kissed her like he had so often done before. But soon he started stroking her breasts, teasing her nipples into peaks and fondling her greedily. Her heart was pounding, and she was terrified of what he would do next, but she made herself lie still and accept his touches. She focused on regulating her breathing and visualised her escape over and over, holding onto the thought of her freedom like a lifeline.

Petyr stopped kissing her neck for long enough to pull on her hand, bringing it to the hard length straining against his luxurious sleepwear. She understood what he wanted and started to stroke and pet him the way she knew most men were supposed to like. He moaned for her, so she assumed she was doing a good job.

“Oh, sweetling… you have no idea how long I have waited for this…”

Sansa did not want to know how long Petyr had been looking at her with that covetous gleam in his eyes and wishing she had her hands on his cock. But she knew. She had been a child when they had first met due to his marriage to Aunt Lysa and she could remember the same gleam in his eyes then.

Unfortunately he was not content to let her stroke him. He reached to put a hand between her thighs, too, stroking her in turn and making her carefully regulated breathing hitch. _Don’t cry,_ she told herself, _don’t you dare cry._ She felt paralysed and unable to think of anything to do or say to stop him. Her body felt heavy and her limbs useless, fear coursing through her veins like ice.

Petyr had pushed all obstacles aside and was rubbing the head of his cock against her entrance and groaning her name when Sansa finally found her voice.

“Petyr, please don’t. I’m still _sore,_ ” she begged, hoping he would listen, “I could use my mouth instead if you want, please.” Her heart was pounding harder than ever, her body tense and poised for fight or flight. She hoped he would accept her compromise even though sucking him off would feel degrading and awful. At least that way she would have some measure of control.

Petyr had stopped rubbing himself against her, but he was still hovering over her threateningly. Sansa would have counted her heartbeats to keep track of the length of time he stayed frozen, thinking her offer over, but her heart was beating too fast for her to manage it.

At long last he rolled off, placing his hands behind his head on the pillow in a relaxed pose with his elbows sticking out to the side. “Go on, then,” he said calmly with a small smirk.

Sansa didn’t even allow herself a few moments to breathe and prepare herself mentally as she was too afraid that he would change his mind if she didn’t get right to it. Hurriedly she moved the covers aside and wrapped her hand around the shaft of his cock. She felt a small measure of satisfaction when she observed that he was not as big as Stannis, both because she didn’t think he deserved to be the ‘bigger man’, and also because it would make her task slightly easier. She took petty pleasure in refraining from commenting on his size, and made sure to look neutral and not impressed in the least. She was sure that Petyr was watching her face closely for her reaction, but she did not meet his eyes. Instead she bent down to suck the head of his cock into her mouth, hoping that the tips and tricks she had gathered from the other girls would allow her to get this over and done with quickly.

It was much harder to do this than she had expected. She had to keep track of so many things, and Petyr was thrusting up to meet her, making her gag. She was glad that he wasn’t pushing on her head, too, although when she had accidentally grazed him with her teeth he had yanked hard on her hair and told her to be careful.

After what felt like eternity to Sansa, Petyr finally came with her name on his lips. She was surprised at the strange, bitter taste that suddenly filled her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow and keep licking at the head until it was clean.

Petyr pulled her up to lie beside him, an arm snaking around her and holding her close to his body.

“You did well, sweetling,” he crooned into her ear. She suppressed a shudder and forced herself to thank him prettily.

He was asleep within minutes after that, and Sansa thanked her lucky stars for the fact that he was apparently one of the men he had spoken of the previous night, the ones who were unfortunately prone to falling asleep after they came.

Sansa blew out a long, shaky and relieved breath. After she was sure Petyr was sleeping deeply, she wormed herself out of his grasp and moved to lie on the other side of the bed from him, as far away as she could get. If she thought he would stand for it, she would have snuck back to her own room, but she was certain that he would expect to find her in his bed when he awoke.

She thought she should be safe going to the en suite to drink some water from the tap, however, so she did that and was happy to get rid of the bitter aftertaste that had been lingering in her mouth. She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink for a while, unwilling to go straight back to bed. What was it about her that had caught Petyr’s attention? Was it just the way she resembled her mother? He often spoke of his beloved ‘Cat’, and how like her Sansa was. Sansa was sure Petyr had only married Aunt Lysa because her mother had turned him down. Was this his revenge for her mother’s rejection? Hurting her like this?

She swallowed thickly and took a deep shuddering breath. She couldn’t keep looking at herself and thinking about this because she’d just start crying, and that would probably wake Petyr.

Sansa returned to bed and tried to push the memories of what she had just done for Petyr out of her head so that she could sleep. She bitterly regretted that she hadn’t gone down on Stannis last night, too. It was unfair that her first memory of doing this for a man would be so tainted. She was sure that Stannis would not have pulled on her hair if she had accidentally hurt him, and she thought that Stannis would probably have been able to control himself better and would not have made her gag so often. It had been kind of fun to pretend to give him head, because he had been so _tense_ and the sounds he had made when she had just did something tiny like lick his thigh or rake her nails over his skin made her think he would have _lost_ it if she had touched his cock with her lips. With him she would have felt powerful, not used and small.

It was difficult to be so cut off from the outside world. She didn’t know anything about the plan that was hopefully being put into place to extract her while Petyr went to the bank. All she knew was that she would have to drug Gregor Clegane and sneak out of the house without the housekeeper seeing her. If there was no one outside to pick her up and take her to safety, she would be all alone in a big city with nowhere to go. If she tried to take a taxi or a bus to Robert’s house Petyr would be able to track her there, and then Robert might not have the time to prove that she was Sansa and not Alayne before Petyr came and retrieved her. She didn’t have any money, anyway, so a bus or a taxi would be difficult for that reason alone. She could try to hitchhike, of course, but that was dangerous at the best of times in King’s Landing. She might end up even worse off if some horrible, sick pervert picked her up.

No, her escape depended on someone waiting for her when she got outside, and picking her up from the street before anyone could notice that she was even there. She had to _vanish._

It took Sansa a long time to fall asleep, but eventually the exhaustion from her constant worry and fear throughout the day caught up with her, and she nodded off into an uneasy, fitful slumber.


	7. Irish Coffee

Sansa’s plans came very close to falling completely apart the following morning.

Petyr did indeed go to the bank as he usually did, but instead of leaving her as he always had before: free to move around the house at her leisure, he stripped her naked and tied her hands to the wrought iron headboard of his bed.

“I want to think of you waiting for me like this while I’m away,” he said with a smirk, obviously amused at the frantic terror in her eyes.

“No, Petyr, please! I’ll stay in bed without you tying me up, please!” she begged, making her eyes as wide and imploring as she possibly could, allowing her lower lip to tremble as much as it wanted.

“Hush, sweetling, be glad I’m not spreading your legs and tying them down, too,” he said and kissed her forehead lovingly.

A tiny sob escaped her, even though she tried to suppress it. Petyr was ruining _everything._ And how would she be able to defend herself if Clegane found her like this?

“Petyr! What if Clegane comes in here?” It was a last-ditch, desperate effort to change Petyr’s mind. He might not want to risk Clegane attacking her while he was away.

“It’s all right, Gregor is in hospital at the moment. Apparently he got into rather a nasty fight last night. His brother will guard the house instead, and the Hound won’t touch you if he knows what’s good for him.”

Sansa bit her lip to prevent herself from saying anything else. Petyr’s mind was obviously made up, and he’d only get angry if she argued some more. Knowing that the Mountain would not be in the house with her when she was helpless like this made it easier for her to keep her peace. She had met the Hound a handful of times, and though he was frightening, she did not think he was nearly as bad as his brother. Additionally, Sandor was more intelligent than Gregor, and Sansa thought she might possibly be able to reason with him if it came to it.

“I’ll be back soon,” Petyr said before he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Sansa listened intently and she could just make out that Petyr spoke to someone with a deep rumbling voice downstairs. The front door slammed after a brief conversation, and Sansa knew she was tied up, naked, and alone in a house with Sandor Clegane and a useless housekeeper.

All she wanted to do was break down and cry, but she forced herself to take several deep and calming breaths, distracting herself as best she could with some happy memories. She could not afford to break down. She had to _think._

She knew that Sandor had looked at her with interest the last time he had seen her. She remembered because it had frightened her to see his desire so plainly written on his face. She also knew that Sandor was not as much of a violent, thoughtless brute as his brother, because Petyr only hired Sandor when he needed brawn _and_ precision.

Could she risk trying to manipulate Sandor into setting her free? She was sure that Sandor would have received strict instructions from Petyr not to touch her, but if she called him to this room, if he _saw_ her like this… would he be able to resist?

Calling the housekeeper would do her no good, so her only means of escape were to somehow convince Sandor to untie her, getting him to drink a sleeping draft, and sneaking out.

She wondered what would happen if she did nothing; if she remained tied up and meek, waiting for Petyr to return and start toying with her. Would someone rescue her? She doubted it. If there was someone waiting for her to come outside so that she could be spirited away, she did not think they would come inside to look for her as that would give the game away. Sandor would see them, and he would report everything to Petyr. They might watch the house and be ready to receive her whenever she next got an opportunity to escape, but when would that be? How many times would she have to endure Petyr’s ‘attentions’ before that happened?

Sansa couldn’t bear the thought of it. She wanted to escape _now._ It was a risk, but she was almost sure that Sandor wouldn’t hurt her if she played her cards right.

It took her a few minutes to work up the courage, but she managed it. She was a wolf, not a mouse, after all.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Please help me!” she cried out, surprised at how loud her voice sounded in the quiet house.

She listened as Sandor Clegane thundered up the stairs, his bulk causing it to sound as if a herd of elephants were stampeding towards her. He stopped outside the door, knocking three times and growling, “are you okay in there?”

“No, I’m trapped!” she answered, steeling herself for the moment when he would burst into the room and see her in the most vulnerable position she had ever been in. She tried to make herself a little less exposed by bringing her legs close to her chest, hiding her breasts and making sure her feet were clamped close together to keep herself as modest as she could.

“What do you mean you’re trapped?” he growled in annoyance.

“Petyr tied me to the bed,” she answered, allowing her anguish to colour her voice, “and I really need the bathroom. Please, could you untie me?”

The door opened, and Sandor stepped inside. He looked much the same as the last time she had seen him. Impossibly big and muscular, loose-fitting clothes that would allow him to move about easily, hair grown long so that he could comb it over the scarred half of his face. His eyes widened when he saw her sitting naked on the bed, and his lips parted slightly in surprise.

“Fucking hells!” he exclaimed, staring at her greedily and walking closer, his hands reaching for her almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Please! I’m having the most awful cramps, I think my period is just starting. I really _really_ need the bathroom,” Sansa begged, looking at Sandor with the same imploring look that hadn’t managed to move Petyr.

Sandor backed away slightly at that, wrinkling his nose. She continued to look at him with desperation in her eyes, occasionally throwing in another “please” when she thought it was appropriate.

“I don’t know… Baelish said to stay away from you,” Sandor said hesitantly, still greedily sweeping his eyes over her form, even though he couldn’t really see anything too important. She could tell that he liked the idea of untying her and then being able to watch as she walked naked across the room to the en suite.

“I won’t tell him, I swear. I’m sure he would rather you let me go for a few minutes than have me bleed all over his bed. You can tie me back up when I’ve finished taking care of it, and he’ll never know! _Please!_ ”

Sansa could tell that she had sold him on the idea when she told him he could tie her back up. At least he seemed very intrigued by the prospect.

“Fine. I’ll let you go to the bathroom, but you’re coming right fucking back,” he barked threateningly.

 _It worked!_ Sansa could hardly believe it, but Sandor was untying her. He wasn’t even pretending not to look at her as he did, giving her frequent appreciative glances as he fumbled with the knotted silk ties Petyr had used to bind her. She wished he would _concentrate_ instead of trying to look at her breasts, so that he might finish getting her free sometime this year. But she didn’t say anything, just keeping still and quiet while he pulled and tugged until the knots came undone.

Sansa ignored the way Sandor _stared_ at her when she got up from the bed and walked to the en suite. He wasn’t touching her. He was just looking. He couldn’t hurt her by looking at her, Sansa told herself this over and over, pretending that she wasn’t terrified, and trying not to run to her destination. Once she was in the bathroom the first things she did was to don Petyr’s bathrobe. It was a little bit too big for her, but it made her feel so much better to wear something, even if she could only wear it while she was in the en suite.

The next part of her plan would be more difficult. She’d have to convince Sandor to let her fix them something to drink. From what she could remember, Sandor was basically an alcoholic, so she ought to be able to tempt him with some of Petyr’s fancy whiskey. She was allowed access to the liquor cabinet, so it would be easy enough to fetch some if she was free to walk around the house.

She thought it over while she bustled around in the bathroom, opening and closing cupboards at random, tearing some toilet paper off the roll and flushing it, and turning the taps on and off a few times. By the time she emerged from the en suite she had a plan. She left the robe behind and squared her shoulders. She would just have to try to ignore the fact that she was naked, and about to talk to a very big, very scary man.

“I’m definitely starting my period. There aren’t any painkillers up here, do you think it would be okay if we went down to the kitchen and fetched them? I could make us something hot to drink while I’m at it. Hot tea always helps me feel less wretched at this time of month,” Sansa babbled nervously, feeling more exposed than she had ever felt before in her life, “if you don’t feel like tea I could make you an Irish coffee? I think Petyr has some really good whiskey lying around... ” she said, making her voice soft and tempting, a sweet and innocent expression fixed firmly on her face. She could tell that her mention of whiskey had him interested. But not quite as interested as he was in drinking in every detail of her naked body. She had crossed her arms over her chest protectively, but it really didn’t do much good.

“I don’t drink when I’m working,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Oh, there’s not much whiskey in an Irish coffee. Just a taste, really. I’m sure it won’t have any effect on _you_.” Sansa made sure to indicate with her tone that he was surely much too big and strong to be affected by a little whiskey. She even fluttered her eyelashes a little. She knew she was blushing, too. It was impossible not to blush when one was standing naked in front of a man who kept _staring._.

Sandor raised an eyebrow at her antics, but she was sure he would relent. He _liked_ her. Sansa could always tell when a man liked her.

“One drink. If you ask to do anything except get back on that bed after that I will hurt you,” he told her with a glower.

“Thank you,” she breathed, “would you mind if I put something on while we’re downstairs? I don’t want to give the housekeeper a heart attack.”

Sandor frowned at that, but jerked his head yes, turned around and went to wait outside the door. It was rather a strange heel face turn for him to look away while she put some clothes on, and she was surprised and a little touched by the gesture. She did not linger to wonder at his behaviour, however. Instead she hurriedly picked up her nightgown and slid it on, pulling on the panties that Petyr had stripped from her before he had left as well. She didn’t dare put anything else on, and hoped that she would be able to pick up shoes and an overcoat when she left the house. If she managed to leave the house… She still needed to get to her room so that she could get the powder she needed to make the sleeping draft!

“I just need to pick up some tea from my room and then I’ll come right downstairs with you,” Sansa said with a small smile, pointing at the door across the hallway.

“Hurry up,” Sandor rumbled impatiently, his eyes taking in her skimpy nightgown appreciatively.

Sansa rushed into her room, picked the bag of sleeping powder up from her music box - thankfully it could pass for tea if Sandor didn’t look too closely - and darted back to the hallway where Sandor stood with his arms crossed across his huge chest, a look of annoyance on his face.

They did not speak at all while Sansa started the kettle boiling and gathered a cup for herself and an Irish coffee glass for Sandor. She fetched the most expensive looking bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet and set about pouring whiskey, sugar, espresso and water into a saucepan, stirring while she waited for the kettle to come to a boil. Sandor was sitting at the kitchen table, examining the bottle of whiskey she had finished using, apparently reading the label with interest. She used the opportunity while he was distracted to heap some of the sleeping powder into the saucepan.

She made herself ‘tea’ using the sleeping powder, too, just to avoid arousing Sandor’s suspicion, but she had no intention of drinking any of it. She got out a small electric whisk, some cream and a little sugar, and made some whipped cream to put on top of Sandor’s Irish coffee. When both of their drinks were ready, she set them on the kitchen table and took a seat across from Sandor.

She blew on her ‘tea’ and warmed her hands on the cup. “Thank you so much for helping me, you’re like my knight in shining armour,” she said, allowing her genuine gratitude to be heard in her voice. It was always better to use true emotion if it was there.

“There’s no such thing, little bird. There are no knights, and there are no gods. If you can’t protect yourself from the likes of Baelish, you might as well just roll over and die. Powerful men with money make all the decisions in this world, and you will always be at their mercy if you go around dreaming of _knights,_ ” Sandor sneered, gulping the scalding hot coffee down in just a few swallows, wiping the cream that got caught in his whiskers off with the back of his hand.

Sansa stared at him with wide eyes, surprised that he would say all that to her. “Oh, I - I suppose you’re right,” she whispered, her stammer unfeigned.

“Hurry up and drink!” he barked, looking a little irritated. She wasn’t sure if he was irritated with her or with himself.

Sansa immediately pretended to take a sip. “It’s too hot,” she complained “just let me wait a minute while it cools down a little.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, but leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest again. Sansa pretended to focus on her ‘tea’ while she actually observed Sandor surreptitiously. She had used a triple dose of sleeping powder in Sandor’s Irish coffee, and it would hopefully start working soon.

Two minutes later Sandor’s head was lolling back, his mouth was open, and loud snores were emitting from him.

Sansa jumped up from her own chair, dumping her ‘tea’ in the sink and washing both her cup and Sandor’s glass thoroughly, drying them and putting them back where she had found them. She washed the rest of the things she had used to make Sandor’s coffee, too. A sudden stroke of inspiration had her dumping half the whiskey down the drain. She was sure that Sandor would tell Petyr exactly what had happened, and perhaps Petyr would suspect Sansa of giving Sandor a sleeping draft, but with Sandor’s reputation and a half-empty liquor bottle on the table where he was passed out, maybe Petyr would think that Sandor had just decided to get drunk, and allowed Sansa to escape because of that. It couldn’t hurt to try it…

Once she was done in the kitchen, she took the rest of the sleeping powder and went directly to the foyer. The housekeeper should be dealing with laundry down in the basement at this time of day, and she doubted she would run into the woman. Sansa’s luck held, and she did not meet anyone on her way to the foyer. She put on a trench coat and some high-heeled leather boots, wrapped a silk scarf around her hair, and put on a pair of big sunglasses. No one who looked at her would know she was only wearing a nightgown underneath. She thought she looked pretty, but not especially memorable, when she checked her reflection in the mirror. Hiding her red hair and most of her face helped make her look more anonymous. Good.

Sansa sent a prayer to the Gods that Sandor insisted did not exist, asking that someone would be waiting to pick her up on the other side of the door and that no one would notice her flight. She was sure Petyr would make sure every house in the street would get canvassed for clues, and if some bored housewife ratted Sansa out, she would scream. 

She left the house, walking at as normal a pace as she was able. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, the engine of a nearby car started, and the car pulled up to idle right in front of Petyr’s townhouse. It had to be her ride out of the hell that her life had become. _Thank you, Stannis,_ Sansa thought, never having been more relieved to see a car in her entire life. The car was a very nondescript model, and a very popular one, too. The colour was similarly common, and Sansa was glad of it because she knew Petyr would have a hard time tracking this car if anyone had spotted her getting in it. She wanted to run for the passenger side door, but she walked casually, hoping that if she acted completely normal no one would remember seeing her, even if anyone was watching.

Finally she was sitting in the front seat of the car. The driver took off immediately, but like her, he was careful to drive completely normally. Taking off with screeching tires would have been very dramatic, but everyone in the neighbourhood would have recalled such an event when Petyr’s canvassing unit came knocking.

Sansa didn’t really let herself breathe or observe anything around her properly until the car was well away from Petyr’s neighbourhood. The driver seemed to sense her anxious mood, and did not speak to her. When she felt that her heart had slowed to beating at a reasonable rate, she relaxed her tense muscles, and stopped looking in the mirrors and trying to see whether they were being followed. She looked at the driver instead and observed that he was a man who was probably about the same age as Stannis, but he had a full beard and his hair was already going grey so he looked rather older. There were deep crow’s feet around his eyes that spoke of a lot of time spent smiling, and he his eyes were unmistakably kind when he cast her quick looks. She trusted him at once.

“Hello, my name is Sansa Stark,” she said, feeling a rush of happiness and power at being able to use her real name.

“Davos Seaworth, at your service,” the driver replied with a small smile, glancing at her quickly out of the corner of his eye before focusing on the road again.

“Did Robert send you?”

“I work for Stannis, actually. But Robert has been made aware of your situation and is anxious to meet you at the earliest opportunity.”

Sansa wondered when the earliest opportunity might be, but a more pressing question occurred to her. “Where are we going?”

“The marina. I have a boat we can use to get you to Dragonstone Island, and Stannis will be able to meet you there and tell you all about the arrangements that have been made for you.”

Sansa was glad to hear that she would be leaving King’s Landing. She wanted to be out of Petyr’s reach, and from what little she knew of Dragonstone Island, it was almost completely controlled by the Baratheons. Hardly anyone lived there anymore as it was mostly industrial buildings and shipyards owned by Baratheon Industries, but she knew Stannis had moved there about eight years ago to manage the company while Robert played politics.

Davos drove the car as far as he could along the marina, letting Sansa out near a lovely little boat named _Marya._

“Board and go below deck,” Davos instructed, looking around with sharp eyes, “I’m just going to go return the car to Patches.”

While Sansa did as Davos asked, she wondered who Patches was, and why Davos had been driving his car. She was guessing that Davos had tried to find a car that would be hard to trace, and borrowing from someone she idly guessed was a local sailor sounded pretty smart.

Sansa did not have to wait on her own for very long, and before she knew it Davos was untying the boat from the dock and starting the motor.


	8. Dragonstone

When they were well out of sight of King’s Landing, Davos said that Sansa could go up if she wanted some fresh air. She stayed outside until she felt cold, watching the blue-green ocean waves create frothy sea foam, and the fluffy white clouds drifting along peacefully in the sky. She was still only dressed in a nightgown and a trenchcoat, so she couldn’t really stay outside for very long. She thought it was a shame as she had been enjoying the sea air and the pretty view. 

Sansa joined Davos on the bridge when she felt the need to warm back up, curious about what it took to sail a boat. Surely it was not that complicated when a boat was this small and the motor did all the work? Davos explained the basics to her, and even let her steer for a little while. It wasn’t that exciting since they were just staying the course towards Dragonstone, but Sansa still thought it was fun to try it.

“You know, this isn’t the first time I smuggle something for Stannis,” Davos said after a while, giving her a mischievous smile.

“Really?” Sansa raised both eyebrows, surprised that Stannis would have been involved in any smuggling activity before today.

“That’s how we met! It was about twenty years ago, back when Mace Tyrell was doing his damndest to bankrupt the Baratheons…”

Davos went on to explain the Tyrell’s company had basically had some sort of transportation monopoly going on, and due to a really badly handled business meeting with Robert - who had only just taken over Baratheon Industries and was still wet behind the ears - Mace had refused to renew some vital contracts with Baratheon Industries, effectively preventing the transport of merchandise from Baratheon Industries factories to the buyers.

The factories had started filling up with goods that Robert was unable to shift, he had been forced to renege on several contracts with buyers, and everything had generally been plunging into complete chaos.

In particular there had been one very important order of computer motherboards that Baratheon Industries simply could not afford to leave undelivered to a very _impatient_ customer.

Stannis - only a teenager at the time - had approached Davos, a known smuggler despite his own young age, for advice on how to transport goods without going through Tyrell. Stannis had insisted that he just wanted to know ‘hypothetically’ how it might be possible, but Davos had been intrigued by the challenge, and had taken it upon himself to solve the problem for Stannis.

Davos had smuggled the entire shipment on his little boat, making it past customs by filling his boat with people dressed as tourists, each of them concealing several motherboards on their person. Davos had been required to make several trips to get all the motherboards to their destination, but he had managed it without losing or breaking a single one.

Stannis had thanked him curtly for saving his family’s company, and then proceeded to talk him into turning himself in for being a smuggler and a ‘law-breaker’. But Stannis had not specified exactly which crime Davos was supposed to turn himself in for, however, and Davos was _good_ at smuggling, so there wasn’t really any _evidence..._

In the end, the attorney that Stannis had generously paid to defend Davos managed to get him a sentence that didn’t even include any jail time. After his community service was done, Stannis got him a job. Davos hadn’t looked back since.

“I can’t believe he made you turn yourself in!” Sansa exclaimed, shaking her head.

“That’s Stannis,” Davos chuckled, “speaking of Stannis, we’re almost at his doorstep now.”

Sansa looked where Davos was pointing, and saw Dragonstone rising from the sea in all its dark, jagged glory. It did not seem a particularly cheerful place, and Sansa was not at all surprised that most of the people who worked in the shipyards and the factories chose to live in King’s Landing and take the ferry across instead of making a home on the island.

“Stannis actually lives there?” Sansa asked, a hint of pity in her voice. She would never have allowed Stannis himself to hear her pity him for living on Dragonstone, but she did not think Davos would tell on her.

“Yes, and Shireen lives with him during the summer holidays. She’s at boarding school for most of the year, otherwise.”

“I haven’t seen Shireen since she was about four years old!”

“She’s almost thirteen, now.”

“I hope I can see her this summer, I’d like to meet her.”

“Let’s focus on keeping you safe for the foreseeable future, eh? You can make plans for the summer when we’ve made sure everyone knows you’re not dead!”

Sansa smiled, not really knowing why she was amused. Her situation was far from being comical. She decided to change the subject.

“Do you live on Dragonstone, too?”

“No, I live on Cape Wrath with my wife and sons. It’s not too far by boat, but sometimes I do stay over with Stannis if the weather is too foul for the journey, or if I’ve been working late.”

Sansa asked Davos about his wife and his sons, and the subject lasted them until Davos was tying the boat up at the dock. 

“Am I going to be staying at Stannis’ house?” Sansa asked, curious about where they were headed next.

“What do you think?” Davos asked, giving her a piercing look.

“I’m not sure… I think Petyr is likely going to send someone to Stannis’ place to look for me eventually, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Stannis thought so, too. But there are plenty of empty apartments owned by Baratheon Industries on the island, and Petyr won’t have an easy time searching all of them. Stannis will make it difficult for him for one thing, and for another it will probably not even occur to Baelish that Stannis might bring you to Dragonstone and _not_ keep you within easy reach.”

Sansa nodded, her stomach churning. She was glad she was off the boat, otherwise the uncomfortable feeling in her belly might have had her losing her… _oh_. She still hadn’t eaten anything today, so she supposed she didn’t really have a lunch to lose. First Petyr had tied her to the bed, and then she had simply been too anxious and stressed to spare anything so mundane as hunger a thought.

“I’m going to take you to the house to see Stannis, but you won’t be sleeping there,” Davos explained, going on to talk about how Stannis would have the key to her new apartment and some other essential things for her. She hoped those things happened to include clothes.

They left the boat and walked towards a nearby parking lot. Davos spent nearly a minute searching his pockets for the key to a car, but eventually he found it and they drove to the big, imposing house on the hill that overlooked the cluster of factories and mostly abandoned apartment buildings that made up the ‘town’. Sansa only saw one shop on the way to the house, and she was certain that it only carried the essentials, judging by the size of it.

There was an old-fashioned circular driveway that led up to Stannis’ house, or possibly it should be called a manor? Sansa wasn’t entirely sure. It was a very big house, in any case, and looked old but well taken care of. It seemed rather gothic to Sansa, with the carved gargoyles and the dark building material. Upon closer inspection Sansa saw that the gargoyles were in fact stone dragons. They matched up well with the name of the island, Sansa thought. There was also a big, rather frightening statue of a snarling dragon in the middle of the circle that made up the driveway.

Davos and Sansa left the car parked directly in front of the main entrance as Davos said it was unlikely that anyone else would be visiting, and that he usually always parked like that when he dropped by the house. They had no cases to carry - Sansa did not even have a purse! - so they simply walked to the gloomy house with their hands in their pockets. It was chilly, and Sansa wished she had thought to take her lovely doeskin gloves with her when she had left Petyr’s house.

Davos seemed to be the sort of guest who did not need to knock, as he simply tried the handle and found the door unlocked. Sansa saw Stannis almost as soon as the door swung open. He was pacing in the large, high-ceilinged entrance hall, his back ramrod straight and so much tension in his shoulders that he looked like he was vibrating with it. His concern and fear was palpable in the air.

As soon as their eyes met Stannis stopped dead and gave her a look of such obvious relief that Sansa felt her throat constrict in response to it. She swallowed a few times and then managed to give him a small smile and a wave. He rushed towards her, almost reaching for her and giving Sansa the idea that he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but stopped short at the last minute, looking at Davos and clearing his throat.

“How did it go?” Stannis asked awkwardly, directing his question at Davos.

“Well, as Sansa is here I would say it all went to plan,” Davos said with an amused glint in his eyes.

Sansa felt herself paling. Her morning had definitely not gone completely according to plan. If Gregor hadn’t landed himself in hospital, she would probably not be standing in front of Stannis, watching him clench his jaw muscles and about to go live in her own apartment. The knowledge of how close to failure and misery she had been made her breath hitch, and she could feel tears burning behind her eyes. Her body felt numb with the peculiar exhaustion that came with being primed for fight or flight for so long. She had not benefited from any physical exertion that would have flushed the stress chemicals from her body, so now her heart was beating irregularly, breathing felt like a chore, and her limbs felt like they were full of sand.

“I’ll go and make sure the apartment is secure and stocked up with all the necessities. I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss,” Davos was saying, but his voice sounded like Sansa had her head under water; sort of far away and garbled. Stannis nodded and handed Davos a key.

When Davos was gone, Stannis cleared his throat again, looking at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was standing there. But then his manners apparently kicked in, and he offered to take her coat.

Sansa hadn’t really _forgotten_ that she was only wearing a revealing négligée underneath, but it just didn’t really occur to her to say no when someone offered to take her coat. It didn’t seem polite. At the same time, she wanted Stannis to see how she had been forced to run with barely even her clothes on her back. She wanted him to see what Petyr had made her wear for him, and she wanted to see Stannis _hurt_ for her. She didn’t know why she was feeling all this, but it just seemed important that Stannis understand exactly what she had escaped.

She unbuttoned her coat on autopilot, her fingers knowing how to work the buttons even though her brain was not really available to focus on the task. Stannis had his back to her and was opening a nearby antique wardrobe, huge and made of dark, polished mahogany. He turned around with a hanger in his hand and accepted the coat Sansa handed him without really looking at her properly. It wasn’t until he had finished fussily arranging the trenchcoat on the hanger and carefully putting it away that he finally seemed to comprehend that Sansa was left trembling in a barely-there nightgown and leather boots that seemed completely out of place now that her trench coat was gone.

His face didn’t fall; it _crumpled._ Seeing his response set off Sansa’s own barely restrained emotions and she felt the tears that had been burning at the back of her eyes start to escape. A sob that sounded much too loud in the cavernous, silent room was the beginning of a crying jag that had been a long time coming.

Sansa felt all of her strength leaving her as the tears poured forth along with more sobs, whimpers and shaking, shuddering breaths. She was sure she would have collapsed to the floor if Stannis hadn’t crossed the distance between them in two long strides and wrapped his arms around her firmly, letting her soak the front of his shirt without a word. He even began to stroke her hair tentatively after a little while and she sobbed all the harder for it, boundlessly grateful for the comfort he offered and overwhelmed by a recurrence of grief for her family. The grief for her family had never truly left her, though it had faded to the background over the years. She wished it was her father’s arms she could take comfort in, or her mother’s or her siblings’. But she had no one.

Horrible things had happened to her, and she had no family to run to for safety.

She was glad that Stannis didn’t say anything. He just held her quietly in his strong arms until she couldn’t produce more tears. When he realised that she had cried herself out, he loosened his grip and moved half a step back from her so that he could look into her eyes.

“I think there are still some clothes upstairs from when Selyse lived here,” he told her hoarsely as he searched her eyes for _something._ He then proceeded to take his suit jacket off and wrap it around her shoulders. It felt warm and smelled pleasantly like him; a woodsy, masculine sort of smell.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sounding like she had a terrible cold. She was sure she looked positively frightful, but Stannis did not seem to care. He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world and that he was afraid of dropping her and shattering her into a thousand pieces.

Stannis appeared to realise that they couldn’t just stand around in the entrance hall, staring at each other for all time, and turned to walk up the grand staircase at the centre of the room. Sansa followed, feeling like her head was stuffed full of cotton. 

“Shireen has clothes here as well, but I doubt you’d fit into any of her things,” Stannis said when they passed a door labeled neatly with Shireen’s name.

He led her to a bedroom that did not seem like it saw much use. The bed was stripped bare, and there were white sheets covering most of the furniture. Stannis walked straight towards a walk-in closet at the other end of the room and started looking through the few articles of clothing that remained in there.

“Not much of a selection, I’m afraid. I’ll have some more clothes delivered to your apartment tomorrow.”

Sansa sniffed and nodded, stepping forward to take a look at what Stannis’ ex-wife had apparently left behind when she had moved out. They were plain, practical clothes, muted colours and demure cuts. Not exactly what Sansa would have chosen for herself, but they were made of soft, fine fabrics and they would keep Sansa warm. That was all she needed for the moment.

Stannis had waited outside while she dressed, and he looked relieved when she emerged, properly covered and decent. She left the blue scrap of silk and lace behind, crumpled on the floor of the closet.

“Would you like something to eat or drink while we discuss the next steps?” he offered a little stiffly. Sansa could tell that he had definitely had some good manners instilled as a child, but that he was a bit rusty when it came to using them.

“Yes, please!” she blurted. When she realised how she had sounded she blushed and added, “I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“Davos didn’t offer you anything on the way?” Stannis furrowed his brow, looking irritated.

“He was busy driving the boat, and I didn’t really feel like eating at that point anyway,” Sansa said, hoping that Stannis wouldn’t be cross with Davos.

Stannis led her to the kitchen and apologised for not having anything ready for her to eat. “My housekeeper generally cooks as I’m not much use in the kitchen, I’m afraid,” Stannis explained, a slightly sheepish expression on his face which was a very peculiar look on him. Sansa had never really seen the resemblance between Stannis and Robert until just then. “I gave her the day off today because I didn’t want anyone seeing you unnecessarily.”

Sansa gave Stannis a small smile and walked over to the fridge. “If you could make tea, I’ll see if I can scrounge something up.”

A little while later they were sitting at the kitchen table with tea and sandwiches. Sansa had devoured her sandwich before Stannis managed to get halfway through his, and she couldn’t even bring herself to feel sorry about stuffing her face in such an unladylike way. She had been _hungry._ But now that she was full she felt able to sip her tea in a proper fashion.

When Stannis had finished eating she asked him what the plan was.

“For now we’re going to have to keep you hidden in one of the apartment buildings on the island. Robert is going to visit here tonight, so perhaps you can stay here until then. I know he’s anxious to see you, and we’d best avoid too many trips back and forth from the apartment.”

“What did Robert say when you told him about me?”

“He didn’t believe me at first, but I convinced him. He became rather distraught when I explained that you had been living with Baelish and that he’d put you on his List,” Stannis began, the look on his face convincing Sansa that ‘rather distraught’ was the understatement of the century, “first I had to be quite firm to make sure he wouldn’t try to murder Baelish, and then I had to explain that he could not go to the news and broadcast the scandal for all to hear. That sort of idiotic move would only give Baelish all the information he would need to steal you back.”

“Did you tell him that you won me at the auction?” Sansa was very curious to hear what Stannis might have told Robert of their night together. She hoped he hadn’t told Robert _everything._ She’d have a hard time looking her godfather in the eye if he knew that she had seduced Stannis.

“Yes, but he thinks we just talked,” Stannis said, his face reddening slightly, “I did not think he needed to know the details.”

Sansa nodded, feeling relieved. “Why is he waiting until this evening to visit?”

“Robert and Edmure Tully are probably the only people who have a vested interest in rescuing you from Petyr. I’m sure Baelish will have people watching them to see if they do anything out of the ordinary. Robert agreed to go about his day as he usually would have for that reason. It would be out of character for Robert to visit Dragonstone, so Davos is going to smuggle him in under cover of darkness.”

Stannis’ mention of her uncle prompted her to ask, “can I let Uncle Edmure know that I’m alive?” She felt heartened at the reminder that she did have some living family, and hoped that she would be able to let him know that she lived. Maybe she would even be able to see him soon?

“I’ve sent a messenger I trust to deliver the news, and to get a blood sample from Edmure. He is your closest living relative, and it will be useful to be able to prove it by comparing your genetic makeup.”

“Will that be enough to prove that I’m Sansa Stark and not Alayne Stone?”

“Not on its own. It will only prove that you and Edmure are blood-relatives. Proving that you are _Sansa_ will be much more complex. But Robert has his man Varys working on it. He’s apparently quite good at dealing with red tape, and more importantly, he’s loyal.”

“How long is it going to take?” Sansa asked seriously, wondering if she was going to be changing one cage for another. Hiding in an apartment on Dragonstone, unable to go out very much for fear of being spotted, was not her idea of freedom.

“It’s hard to say. Varys might need to get permission to excavate the body that was buried in your place in order to show that you were never killed. Then there’s the matter of all the forged records surrounding you. These records are kept by people who are loyal to Baelish for the most part, and it will be difficult for Varys to get his hands on them and prove that they’re false without drawing attention to what he’s doing.”

“A month? Six months? A year?” Sansa just wanted a vague timeframe, and she searched Stannis’ eyes for clues as she named different lengths of time. Stannis did not betray a single hint. He genuinely seemed to have no idea how long it would take.

Stannis shook his head. “You’ll be well taken care of, however long it takes. If it seems like it will be more than a few months we can discuss moving you to Braavos so that you will be able to lead some semblance of a normal life while we sort this out.”

“I’m not sure I know how to lead a normal life,” Sansa said softly. She hadn’t even been to school since she was fifteen! Petyr had hired the finest instructors to make sure she still got an education befitting her station, of course, but it wasn’t the same. She was now at the point where she ought to be thinking about University, but she knew that Petyr had never intended for her to get a higher education. She was sure that he had intended for her to become his pet mistress, or possibly even his wife, never far from his side and always ready to please him. She shivered at the thought, even though it was quite warm in the kitchen.

Stannis did not seem to know what to say to her, simply sitting still and looking at his empty tea cup with a frown on his face. Seeing his frown made her think of the little girl she had been so long ago, curious about his frowns and wondering if he was angry.

Sansa looked at her own tea cup for a while, trying to remember how it had felt not to have a care in the world.

“Do I want to know why you escaped in a - what you escaped in?” Stannis asked at length.

Sansa looked up, meeting Stannis’ intense, searching gaze. She knew he would back off if she said she didn’t want to talk about it, but she found herself wanting him to know. She would never have wanted to tell Robert about how difficult her escape had been, because she knew that Robert would fly into a rage and probably do something reckless and stupid like try to murder Petyr, but Stannis would listen. He’d listen and he’d hurt for her like she wanted someone to hurt for her. Maybe he’d even hold her again…

“The first thing Petyr did after you left that room we were in together was to _examine_ me,” she began, meeting Stannis’ eyes and leaving him in no doubt about what she meant. She felt a peculiar mixture of satisfaction and pain when she saw Stannis blanch and clench his jaw as if to prepare himself for battle.

The whole story came tumbling from her lips as Sansa was unable to stop once she had started. She told Stannis everything that had happened since he left her, and she watched as his face went from horrified concern at the physical examination Petyr had put her through, to tormented, infuriated teeth-grinding at the fact that she been forced to sleep in his bed and pleasure him, until finally he looked completely anguished at the way Petyr had left her tied up and naked, and completely at Sandor Clegane’s mercy.

His anguish did not really lessen as she explained how she had manipulated Sandor into untying her and joining her for a drink, but he started to look impressed, too. He did not say anything, however, until Sansa finished speaking.

“You should not have been put through that,” he ground out, his eyes still full of horror and tangible grief for her, his face pale as a sheet, his hands balled into fists that seemed to be shaking with the need to do some kind of violence. It was the effect that she had wanted to produce, but now that she had done it she no longer felt even a little satisfied. Instead she just felt painfully guilty and ashamed of having dragged him into her personal hell.

“It could have been worse,” she shrugged, trying to minimise the experience so that he would start looking more like himself again.

“It was bad enough!” he growled fiercely, slamming his fists into the table with a loud, startling crash that made her jump, and standing up from his place at the kitchen table to begin to pacing around like a caged animal, “Baelish will _not_ get away with this. You’ll testify against him, won’t you?” Stannis gave her a hard, feverishly impassioned, look, and Sansa suddenly understood exactly why Davos had turned himself in for being a smuggler because Stannis had told him to. It was a look that promised to make one feel very small indeed if one tried to shirk one’s duty.

“As long as it’s safe for me to do so,” she agreed.

It was as if a fire had been lit behind Stannis’ dark blue eyes, and she could see his brain whirring away, furiously planning Petyr’s downfall. She stood up to put a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. It would be a while until they’d be able to do anything about Petyr.

“Is there anywhere more comfortable where we could sit down?” she asked, distracting him from the war he was obviously planning in his head.

Stannis took them to his study. The room was dominated by a monster of a mahogany desk, but there were also bookcases full of books, and a corner of the room boasted a sofa and a comfortable-looking armchair arranged around a low table. Everything was neatly in its place, and there did not seem to be an excess of personal touches, but it was a comfortable, warm room nonetheless.

Stannis sat down on the sofa, obviously intending the armchair for her, but she wanted to be close to him and sat down so that their sides were touching. He stiffened briefly, but relaxed when she did not try to assault him with any further touches. She wished he would put his arm around her, as she was aching for comfort from someone she could trust, but did not dare ask him to.

“I can’t believe I got away,” she said after a little while, “I’ve dreamt of escaping a few times, but I always woke up.”

“You’re never going back. I’ll make sure of it,” he told her authoritatively, his body tensing up noticeably beside her.

“I believe you,” she whispered, working up the courage to lean her head on his shoulder.

Suddenly something that she hadn’t considered occurred to her. “I think Petyr bought the story about you only wanting me because you thought Robert wanted me, but since I’ve disappeared such a short time after meeting you I’m sure he’s bound to rethink it. Isn’t he going to be watching you, too? And isn’t it out of character for you to be at home today?” A note of worry crept into her voice, and she burrowed herself closer to him, as if that would somehow help.

“I have instructed my assistant to tell anyone who concerns themselves with my whereabouts that I am surveying the shipyards today. No one is likely to want to bother searching for me there.”

Sansa nodded thoughtfully, it was a good story. The shipyards on Dragonstone Island were famously huge and labyrinthine. Surveying them could easily take many days if one did it properly and searching for a surveyor, without knowing where he was beforehand, was a fool’s errand.

"Anyway, it will be difficult for Baelish to keep tabs on anything here in Dragonstone. I make sure that security is tight at the best of times, but I’ve tripled it now that you’ll be here.”

“Why will I have to stay cooped up in the apartment for the most part, then?”

“I can keep Petyr’s spies out, but I can’t prevent them from questioning the people who work on the island. If the people who work here start seeing you regularly the odds are that the knowledge will reach Baelish eventually.”

“That makes sense, I suppose. But I don’t understand why I can’t just live here with you, then? Won’t that make things easier?” Sansa let her voice be as imploring as possible, and brought her hand up to touch Stannis’ arm briefly.

Stannis cleared his throat and shifted around a little uncomfortably. “You know very well Baelish is eventually going to send someone to search this place,” Stannis said, his tone making it clear that he was completely aware that she was just just pretending not to understand why she couldn’t live with him like she wanted. 

She pouted even though he wouldn’t be able to see. She liked being near Stannis. He made her feel _safe_. Living alone didn’t really have any appeal compared to staying with Stannis in his big scary house.

“Yes, I know…” she sighed sadly.

It had taken him a while to work up the gumption, but finally he awkwardly worked his arms around her and tucked her against his chest, holding her gently but still firmly enough to make her feel secure and protected. She was glad that she had traded her leather boots for some old comfortable slippers that were a little too big for her, because she was able to toe the slippers off easily and curl her legs underneath her, making it easier to fold herself completely into Stannis’ embrace.

“I’m sure Robert will be better at this,” Stannis said apologetically after some time had gone by.

“At what?”

“Comforting you?” he said, sounding uncertain and embarrassed.

“Robert didn’t do what you did for me, and I haven’t seen him in years. You’re perfectly fine.” She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Why on earth would Robert be better at comforting her than Stannis? Stannis was the one who knew exactly what she’d been through. Did he think she was going to tell Robert all that? _Was Stannis going to tell Robert?_

“Oh, and just so you know, I don’t want Robert to hear everything I just told you. He’ll just get really angry and do something reckless,” Sansa mumbled against Stannis’ shirt. He hadn’t put his suit jacket back on after he had lent it to her, even though she had handed it back to him when she had finished getting dressed in some of Selyse’s old clothes.

“I agree, Robert should probably remain in the dark when it comes to those particulars,” Stannis said seriously.

“Just like he won’t know everything about the other night?” Sansa wasn’t sure why she wanted to bring the night she had shared with Stannis up while he was holding her. She just wanted to know how he’d react, but she didn’t really know why she was so curious.

Stannis tensed up the mention of their night together. “Yes,” he said quietly, “just like that.”

“What do you think he’d do if he found out?” Sansa asked, morbidly fascinated.

“Before or after he buried my corpse?” Stannis sighed. Sansa giggled quietly into his shirt. Stannis had a very dry, deadpan sense of humour that she appreciated.

“No, I mean what do you _really_ think he’d do? I’m sure he wouldn’t kill you,” Sansa asked, her amusement not quite gone from her voice.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Stannis grumbled.

“I think he’d just yell at us both, and maybe resort to a _little_ violence against furniture. But he wouldn’t actually _kill_ anyone.”

“A little violence? The facts say that I paid Littlefinger money to take your virginity. He’ll strangle me with his bare hands if he ever finds out.” Stannis sounded full of guilt and self-loathing, and also a little bit like he would strangle himself if he could.

Sansa moved back slightly so that she could look at his face. As she suspected it was twisted into a tortured sort of grimace, but his cheeks were also rather red; most likely meaning that he was embarrassed to speak of this.

“Those aren’t the only facts,” Sansa said, stroking the stubble on his cheek lightly, “there are other facts, too. Like the fact that _everything you did was to help me escape._ ” She looked straight into his eyes as she spoke, placing a heavy emphasis on her words. She tried to say ‘stop acting like a guilty idiot’ with her tone, but she wasn’t sure if he caught it.

He was looking at her skeptically, and there was still a lot of guilt in his eyes. She wondered if he was thinking about all the things they did _after_ they had sex. Those things had not really been strictly necessary to help her escape.

“If you’re thinking about the bath and the last hour or so before you left and feeling guilty, you should know that I will be eternally grateful to you for letting me have those moments. I know you’re not really the type to go in for that stuff, and I know you’re not in _’love’_ with me or anything, but you made me feel like you loved me. You made me feel precious, taken care of, and like I was more than a piece of meat on some _list. _I will never forget it.” Sansa knew she was laying it on thick, but she needed him to understand that she was glad that he had relaxed enough to let her have her way with him. He had let her make a hopeless situation into a memory she did not cringe at revisiting. It had been a remarkably lovely night, all things considered.__

__Stannis stared at her like he had never seen her before, but then he just nodded and didn’t say anything. She was glad that he didn’t try to push her away, and allowed her to lean back against him to continue enjoying his protective hold on her._ _

__They were quiet for a while, and to Sansa’s surprised pleasure Stannis started to stroke her hair gently, just as he had when he had comforted her in the entrance hall. He was clearly not completely at ease with the gesture, but he was trying._ _

__“For a man who is not very interested in all those romantic trappings, you’re not bad at coping with them, you know,” she said softly and a little teasingly. She was trying to put him at ease, but judging by the way he stopped breathing for a second or two, she had only succeeded in making him uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to know how to answer her, and his hands had frozen half way through combing through her hair._ _

__“I’m not making fun of you, I really mean it,” she said, leaning back to look at him again, “I think you’re better at this stuff than you realise,” she whispered, looking at his lips and wondering what he would do if she kissed him right now._ _

__When he opened his mouth to presumably object to her observation, she decided to seize the moment. If he pushed her off and let her fall on the floor, she would just say that she had just wanted to thank him properly for saving her. Or she could argue that they had kissed so much before that one more could hardly matter..._ _

__Their lips met, and she immediately took advantage of the fact that his mouth was open. She found his tongue and stroked it with her own, trying to tease him into responding in kind. But before she could find out whether he would have responded to her eager kiss, she heard a sharp, surprised intake of breath come from the general vicinity of the door._ _

__Both she and Stannis quickly turned their heads, breaking the kiss and probably wearing identical guilty looks._ _


	9. Family

Sansa was relieved when she saw it was only Davos who had walked in. If it had been Robert things might have got ugly. Robert was due to arrive in the evening, however, and it was still relatively early in the afternoon. Davos did not seem similarly relieved to see them. He seemed completely shocked, although he was recovering his composure quickly.

She decided it might be time to put her feet on the floor and sit up like a lady instead of keeping herself in the intimate embrace she had been entangled in with Stannis. She glanced at Stannis as she moved to sit properly next to him, and saw that he had gone very red, a vein throbbing threateningly on his forehead. He looked embarrassed and angry at the same time.

“I can see I should take up knocking, I do apologise,” Davos said with a raised eyebrow, the first out of the three of them to regain the ability to speak.

Stannis cleared his throat uncomfortably but seemed at a loss as to what to say.

“I was just thanking him,” Sansa said, trying to salvage the situation.

Davos raised both eyebrows at that, glancing at Stannis as if to confirm whether she was speaking the truth. Whatever he saw on Stannis’ face did not seem to be helping him come to any conclusions, because he turned his gaze back on her, still puzzled. He seemed to be getting over his confusion as quickly as he had got over his shock, however, and an amused glint appeared in his eyes.

“That’s a friendly way to thank someone! Should I expect the same treatment? I’ll have to call my wife and ask for permission.” Davos was obviously joking to try to alleviate the tension, but Stannis did not seem to appreciate the joke. Sansa could hear him start grinding his teeth as soon as Davos finished speaking.

“Stannis gets special treatment,” Sansa said easily, smiling sweetly at Davos.

“Does he now?” Davos chuckled and shook his head a little incredulously, “I just came up to tell you two that the apartment is secure and stocked up with food and the essentials. I even remembered to pick up a toothbrush for you.”

“Thank you,” Stannis said stiffly, apparently trusting himself to speak now. “Sansa is going to stay here until you bring Robert over, when do you estimate you will arrive with him?”

“Oh, I’m not sure I should tell you,” Davos teased, “it might do you good to stay on your toes.”

Sansa almost giggled, but she could practically _feel_ the waves of annoyance coming off Stannis, and she thought she better not.

“Hush,” she scolded, “should we wait to eat dinner until you and Robert get here?”

Perhaps it was her light reproof, and perhaps it was the way Stannis was glowering and grinding his teeth, but Davos managed a straight face after that. He told them it would probably be well after dinner when he arrived with Robert, so that they should not wait to eat.

Sansa nodded. “I’m going to go to the kitchen and check whether we have some ingredients for dinner, I think I saw an uncooked chicken in the fridge…”

***

Stannis could not believe that Sansa had kissed him. As soon as her lips had touched his own, his brain had shorted out, and he really didn’t know what he would have done if Davos hadn’t walked in. Hopefully he would have come to his senses and realised how completely inappropriate he and Sansa were being. But it didn’t matter. Davos had _seen,_ and now Sansa had gone to the kitchen and Davos was looking at him like he had some explaining to do.

“What in the seven hells was that?” Davos asked as soon as Sansa was out of earshot.

“I was just holding her _platonically_ to comfort her, and then she kissed me,” he muttered.

“And you hated every part of it?” Davos asked skeptically, giving Stannis a knowing look.

Stannis’ face had felt warm ever since Davos had walked into the room, but now it felt like it was burning up.

“I was just about to push her away when you walked in,” Stannis insisted. It was hopefully true, he would only have let the kiss go on two or three more seconds at _most._ Probably.

“... Sure.” Davos did not seem completely convinced, but obviously wanted to drop the matter and get to the heart of the issue. “What exactly is your relationship with her?” 

“I’m her godfather’s brother,” Stannis bit out, glaring at Davos.

“Come on, what happened when you found her at Littlefinger’s ‘den of sin’?” Davos crossed his arms and gave Stannis a piercing look.

“I told you, I had to bid on her to make sure she didn’t end up trapped with the likes of Mace Tyrell for six hours,” Stannis muttered, crossing his arms to mirror Davos.

“And during the six hours you spent with her…?”

Stannis had never been able to lie very well to Davos, but now he desperately wanted to. He wanted to say: ‘nothing of note’ and have Davos believe him, but now that he had seen Sansa kiss him, he knew it was unlikely to happen. He clenched his jaw tightly and scowled fiercely at his so-called friend.

“We were being watched,” Stannis began, feeling very bitter about being forced to share even a little bit of his night with Sansa, “so we pretended to have sex. We were able to have a whispered conversation and we planned Sansa’s escape.”

_Please let Davos be satisfied with that explanation._

“Yeah, yeah. What else?” Davos asked, searching Stannis’ face for clues.

“She gave me a neck massage,” Stannis tried, face still burning, hoping it would be enough.

Davos just gave him a look that said: _‘nice try, but try again.’_

Stannis was stubborn, however, and was not about to admit to the fact that he’d actually had sex with Sansa. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to tell anyone about that, _ever_. “She also gave me a back massage,” he said through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes at Davos and _daring_ him to ask for more information.

Davos reluctantly took the hint. “Those must have been some massages.” He allowed the comment to hang in the air, but didn’t say anything more on the subject.

“I should go downstairs and help Sansa in the kitchen,” Stannis said after a tense moment of silence.

“How would _you_ be able to help her in the kitchen?” Davos asked, clearly amused.

“I know where some things and… items are located,” Stannis said defensively, wincing at how he sounded.

“If you say so. I’ll come with you. I don’t have to set sail for King’s Landing until an hour or two from now.”

 _Great._ Davos was very observant, and Stannis was sure that the man would be watching him and Sansa very closely. He wished he could be sure that Sansa wouldn’t do anything to give them away, but she seemed to really like being near him for some reason, and he didn’t have it in his heart to put up his defenses and push her away with his scowls and his glares like he usually would.

When they got to the kitchen Stannis could see that Sansa was in the middle of mixing something in a bowl. From the looks of things it was a marinade of lemon, honey and mustard. She looked unfairly beautiful in Selyse’s old clothes and a simple white apron. He could not remember Selyse ever looking that nice in those clothes. He supposed it had something to do with the way Sansa carried herself, or maybe it was something about her graceful, slender body? The way it seemed made to show clothes off to their best advantage, even if the clothes didn’t have _any_ advantages.

“Great timing!” she smiled at them brightly. Davos went to sit down at the kitchen table, pulling an old newspaper towards him and pretending to read, but Stannis could tell that his friend was watching him and Sansa. Stannis had been busy surreptitiously looking at Davos, and was too late to resist the small spoon of marinade that came towards his lips. He just opened his mouth and tasted Sansa’s mixture meekly. Damn it. Now Davos would _definitely_ think they were more intimate than Stannis wanted him to think.

“What’s the verdict?” Sansa asked brightly, going back to mixing the sharp and slightly sweet marinade with a whisk.

“It’s good,” he said awkwardly, but truthfully. She hadn’t used too much honey.

“I’m going to baste the chicken and let it sit for a while, I’ll put it in the oven around six if that sounds good to you?” Sansa was speaking so sweetly, and she was touching his arm now, leaving the whisk waiting in the bowl.

Stannis glanced at Davos and saw that he was pretending to be very interested in the old newspaper. However, there was an amused smile playing on his lips, betraying the fact that he was definitely seeing _everything._

Stannis swallowed and cleared his throat. He wanted to step back and force Sansa to stop touching him, but he thought that might hurt her feelings, and this was one of those rare moments where he cared more about protecting someone’s feelings than he cared about his own pride. Thankfully, Sansa seemed to sense his discomfort and dropped her hand soon enough.

“Er… do you need any help?” Stannis asked, remembering why he had sought her out to begin with.

“Yes, actually. Do you have a meat thermometer around here somewhere? I can’t seem to find one and I’ll need it for later,” Sansa said over her shoulder, turning back to her marinade.

Stannis thought about it for a short while, and then walked towards the cupboard near the oven, got on his haunches and looked through the various bits and bobs that were kept in there. He had a vague memory of seeing a meat thermometer when he had been looking for grill tongs last summer. After a short search, he pulled the thermometer out, shooting Davos a triumphant look. He wasn’t useless in the kitchen after all!

“Oh, thank you!” Sansa came over to accept the thermometer from him, giving him another lingering touch and a flirtatious look from underneath lowered eyelashes. _Was she doing this on purpose?_ He bristled slightly at the thought that she might deliberately be trying to get Stannis in trouble with Davos. But she couldn’t already have sussed out that he and Davos had the sort of relationship where they kept each other in check, could she?

“Could you chop up the rosemary?” she asked before he had a chance to react to her flirtatious looks.

Stannis nodded and rolled up his shirt sleeves, reaching for a knife and a cutting board. The fresh rosemary smelled nice, and it was good to have something to do with his hands, and a reason to avoid Davos’ eyes.

Sansa added the chopped up rosemary to her marinade, basted the chicken with it and placed it in the fridge to let it soak up the flavour until it was time to put it in the oven. Stannis watched with avid interest, feeling like this cooking stuff wasn’t so complicated after all. Maybe he should attempt to learn? Maybe Sansa would teach him?

He shook his head slightly as soon as the thought crossed his mind. Sansa was on Dragonstone to _hide._ Not to give him cooking lessons. Not to spend more time giving him soft touches, lingering looks and eager kisses that made him forget that she was a _teenager._ A traumatised teenager, at that.

Seven hells, he needed to pull himself together.

Sansa asked if there was anywhere she could lie down until it was time to put the chicken in the oven, and Stannis showed her to Shireen’s room. The bed wasn’t made, but Stannis did not want to know what sort of look Davos would give him if he let Sansa take a nap in his bedroom. Sansa told him she would be fine with lying on top of the bedspread, anyway. She just wanted to rest her eyes for a bit.

Stannis and Davos retired to Stannis’ study and Davos was chuckling as soon as the door closed behind them. They sat down, Stannis in the armchair and Davos on the sofa.

“You are _completely_ wrapped around her little finger, aren’t you?”

Stannis remembered the mental image he’d had of himself on a leash not long before he had left Sansa after their night together, and closed his eyes to try to clear his mind of the memory.

“No,” he protested weakly. He didn’t want it to be true, but he had a feeling it was. The way he had found Sansa on that horrible list, and the night they had spent together had _changed_ him. He couldn’t imagine himself doing anything to displease her if he could possibly avoid it, and he wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and protected from harm. And even though he knew it was horribly horribly wrong, he wanted to keep her close, and he wanted her to keep looking at him admiringly and adoringly; like he was her saviour.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Stannis. She is very young and vulnerable. From what you told me she has been in captivity since she was fifteen, and being around Littlefinger for three years will not have allowed her to have a normal adolescence. You know what he’s like, don’t you? I’m pretty sure she’s been taught to think the only way to deal with men is by using her _charms_ to manipulate them. She’ll expect every man to fall at her feet if she behaves a certain way, and you’re not doing her any favours by proving her right.”

It was not what Stannis wanted to hear, but he knew that what Davos was saying was true. The voice in the back of his head had been screaming the same thing at him since Sansa had kissed him.

“I’m not falling at her feet,” he protested again, crossing his arms and glaring at Davos.

“If there was a puddle in her path you’d lie in it and let her walk over your back. Don’t deny it, I saw the way you were looking at her.” Davos was glaring right back at him, and obviously not buying what Stannis was selling.

“I just want to protect her from harm,” Stannis insisted.

“That’s not the problem, Stannis. The problem is that Sansa has never known a sliver of independence. She had her father looking out for her when she was a child - as he should have - and then she entered an unhealthy relationship with her captor at a time in her life when she should have been learning how to depend on herself. She doesn’t know how to exist without a man to lean on. It’s natural for her to seek out a familiar pattern instead of risking the unknown.”

“I would never treat her the way Baelish treated her!” Stannis hissed, offended by what Davos was implying.

“I’m not saying you would, I’m saying that Sansa obviously wants to live here with you rather than being excited at the prospect of living by herself in a perfectly safe apartment and having some independence. She obviously wants to be near you so that she can continue to… I don’t know, _massage you?_ ” Davos gave him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow.

Stannis felt himself go very red. A combination of anger at himself, and hot, uncomfortable embarrassment. Davos was right about everything, and Stannis was a foolish, foolish man. It was just difficult to look at Sansa without remembering what they had done, and what she had gone through since. Remembering their night together and knowing what she had faced to escape her captivity softened him towards her. He couldn’t act hard and distant after taking her virginity and sharing the intimate moments they had afterwards. He couldn’t be stand-offish when he knew what sort of abuse she had been forced to contend with. There had to be some sort of middle road… It couldn’t be that his only choices were to either let her latch on to him and ‘massage him’, or push her away. Why couldn’t he see the right way to behave? He had never had this problem before.

He looked at Davos, hesitating and thinking hard. He needed Davos to help him figure this out, but in order to do so, Davos would need all the facts. Stannis swallowed, his tongue uncomfortably dry in his mouth.

“I… we… “ Stannis began, wondering if he was doing the right thing by telling Davos. He had never meant to tell anyone, but Davos might be able to help him do the right thing if he had all the information. Stannis could obviously not trust himself around Sansa. His judgement was too clouded.

“Sansa and I had sex,” he admitted in a small hoarse whisper. Saying it out loud made it real, and he felt like his insides were turning to great big clumps of ice.

“What?” Davos went completely still on the sofa, his eyes widening.

Stannis tried to explain the reasoning behind what they’d done, and how it was a good thing that they _had_ gone to the trouble since Baelish had examined her right away. If he had found her untouched at that point, the escape would have been impossible. Baelish would have become too suspicious, and he would never have left her with Clegane at the townhouse and gone about his business like usually.

“Well, that explains the way you’re pining for her like a teenager,” Davos said harshly, giving Stannis a look that made him feel rather small. “But why did you have to accomplish the task with your cock? I’m sure there were other things in the room that could have done the job.”

“It wasn’t just a matter of mechanically breaking a barrier, Davos! It was her _first time!_ ” Stannis tried to explain it, but he felt like he was floundering, unable to put it into words.

The two men glared at each other silently for a while.

“I feel obligated to her,” Stannis said through clenched teeth, trying to keep his dignity.

“Of course you do, you arse,” Davos muttered, rubbing his face with his hands, “I knew something important had happened between the two of you for you to act like a schoolboy with a crush, but this is a _disaster._ ”

Stannis scowled at Davos. It had definitely not been a _disaster._ Sansa had said she liked it.

“She can’t stay on Dragonstone, you realise that?” Davos said firmly, making Stannis scowl even more deeply. “She needs to be away from you so that she’ll have a chance of recovering from this mess and becoming her own, _whole_ person.”

“What do you mean? She’s not going to be staying at the house with me,” Stannis was genuinely surprised that Davos thought he needed to be separated from Sansa for her own good.

“She’ll find a way to be at the house as much as she can, and you won’t be able to resist her. It only took her about an hour to kiss you, do you honestly think she won’t be warming your bed by the end of the week if she stays on the island?”

Stannis’ heart sped up at the idea, but his stomach clenched up with guilt at the same time. The idea should not have excited him, and the fact that it had just proved Davos’ point.

“You can’t let this happen, Stannis,” Davos said, looking him dead in the eye and making damn sure that Stannis understood him.

Stannis broke eye contact first, looking at the floor. “Fine. I’ll convince Robert that she should go to Braavos as soon as possible,” Stannis said, his shoulders sagging. As much as he wanted to keep Sansa close by where he could personally make sure she was safe, it would be a risk. If Davos was reading the situation correctly, and Stannis was pretty sure he was, Sansa might just try to attach herself to Stannis and try to recreate the unhealthy relationship she had been involved in with Littlefinger. Of course it would be a little less damaging because Stannis wouldn’t force Sansa to do anything she didn’t want to do, but it would still prevent Sansa from becoming her own, independent person. Stannis couldn’t let himself encourage her codependence. It wouldn’t be _right._

***

Sansa didn’t know what had changed, but Stannis seemed different as they ate dinner in the large dining room. He had told her that the chicken was very good when she had worriedly asked if the food was not to his liking, but he had maintained a stony silence ever since, glaring at his plate as if it had offended him.

She doubted it was the kiss that was bothering him, as he had seemed perfectly fine when he had been helping her in the kitchen before her afternoon nap, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed plenty of times before, anyway.

“What’s the matter?” she asked softly when they had both finished eating, dabbing the corner of her mouth daintily with a linen napkin.

“Nothing,” he said curtly, getting up to start clearing the plates.

“Please tell me. I can tell that you’re worried about something, should I be worried, too?” she really was concerned, but she knew he’d be more likely to tell her something if he thought she was worried or scared. So she made herself sound a little bit more frightened than she was in order to get him to talk.

“Davos pointed out to me that it would be safer for you to go directly to Braavos while we try to prove who you are. Dragonstone is just too close to King’s Landing,” he said with a frown and a strange look in his eyes that made her think he wasn’t telling her everything.

“Well, that’s not _nothing,_ ” she said and raised an eyebrow, helping him take the dirty plates and cutlery to the kitchen.

“I’m going to discuss it with Robert when he gets here, I’m sure he will agree,” Stannis said, avoiding her eyes and focusing on loading the dishwasher.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” she made her voice deliberately vulnerable, and gave him an imploring look even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“It’s for your own safety.”

“But I feel safe with you,” she said, touching his shoulder and tugging on him so that he would leave the dishwasher alone and turn to face her. He complied and she gave him her most sincere, wide-eyed, adoring gaze. Stannis stared back, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring slightly. He looked like he was in no small amount of pain.

“Don’t,” he began, his voice hoarse and faint, “don’t look at me like that.”

She blinked up at him innocently, “how would you like me to look at you?” She took a step closer to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, still gazing up at him like he was her entire world. It was her most effective look, and she had a perfect success rate with it when she had been flirting with boys in the Vale. 

He pushed her away with a strangled sound. “You shouldn’t… do that.”

She was shocked. Had he really just pushed her away after she had looked at him like that? He should be kissing her! She used her genuine confusion to her advantage, pouted and asked, “do what?”

He narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

Oh. Maybe it was a little harder to manipulate grown men than it was to get teenage boys to do whatever she wanted? But Stannis had been pliant enough before... “I just want to stay here with you, is that so bad?” She worried at her bottom lip and did her best to seem vulnerable and helpless. She liked Stannis, and she trusted him. She did not want to go somewhere where she would have to contend with new people that she knew nothing about. Why did he suddenly want her to go?

Stannis ran his hand through his hair in frustration and gave her a strange, desperate sort of look.

“I like the idea of you staying a little too much, Sansa. I can’t trust myself around you, and you need to be around people who aren’t going to fall at your feet when you bat your eyelashes at them. You need to learn to rely on more healthy methods to get what you want.”

“You mean like a reasoned discussion?” Sansa suggested calmly, trying not to let him see how offended she was that he thought so little of her. Maybe she did know a trick or two to get men to go along with her suggestions, but she wouldn’t use those tricks unless she really _liked_ someone. She wouldn’t go to the store and wink at the manager to get a discount! She was not some kind of… _hussy._ Sansa couldn’t let him see that she was upset, because then he would just think he was right. She needed to show him that she didn’t need to ‘bat her eyelashes’ to help herself win arguments.

“Yes,” he said, obviously surprised by her reaction. That was good; she wanted him to be surprised. She wanted him to know that she wasn’t what he clearly thought she was.

“How is it my fault if you can’t trust yourself around me?” she asked curiously, making sure to keep her tone free of accusation.

“It’s obviously not your fault, but unless I am badly mistaken, you would not object to my attentions?” He was reddening and looking at his feet now. It was rather adorable.

“Of course I don’t object, I already told you! I _like_ you,” she couldn’t help the exasperation that snuck into her tone.

“And you might even encourage my attentions?” he asked her shrewdly, looking up from his feet and giving her a piercing look.

“Maybe,” she allowed, flicking her hair across one shoulder defiantly.

“Yes, well. That is why it would be better if you were out of my reach,” he said quietly, “you must understand that we can only have a platonic relationship. If anything more were to happen between us I would always be taking advantage of you, no matter how much you think you might like me and want my attentions.” Stannis was still staring into her eyes, willing her to understand him.

He was wrong. How could he be taking advantage of her if she _wanted_ him?

But she could tell that he would not be swayed, and she did not know what to say to change his mind. If she wouldn’t have proved his point by doing it, she might have taken a step closer and pressed herself against him and asked him sweetly to reconsider, but that was out of the question now.

“I thought we had something special,” she said softly, looking at him with sad eyes. Perhaps she couldn’t ‘bat her eyelashes’ to win the argument, and maybe she was conceding to him, but she could still make him feel guilty.

Judging by his furrowed brow and woeful expression it was working, but she didn’t really feel all that satisfied when she saw that she had succeeded. It really annoyed her that she couldn’t bring herself to feel even a little righteous about making him guilty. Would she really have to lose the argument and then not even be able to enjoy sending Stannis on a guilt trip for winning? How was that fair?

“Why don’t you go to the living room? I’ll - I’ll finish up in here,” Stannis suggested hesitantly, treading on eggshells.

Sansa thought it was a good idea to get some space between them, so she left him to finish loading the dishwasher and went to the forbidding, much too neat living room. Just sitting on the uncomfortable antique sofa helped Sansa understand why Stannis seemed to prefer his study. This living room seemed like it belonged more in a museum than in a home.

The hour that went by after dinner and before Robert and Davos arrived was awkward and uncomfortable. Sansa stayed in the living room, and Stannis eventually joined her, carrying his laptop and a tablet that he handed her. It was strange to have unhindered access to the Internet. Petyr had always made sure that her means of communication with the outside world were limited. She didn’t have any social media pages, and she couldn’t exactly start making them now. Which name would she use at this point? She was in between identities. 

Well, she could make an anonymous blog, she supposed. Share pictures of kittens and inspirational quotes.

As she fiddled around with her tablet, marveling at her freedom, she occasionally glanced at Stannis. He usually looked busy with something on his laptop, but once she caught him looking at her. It was electric when their eyes met, and Sansa felt herself blush. Perhaps it had been childish of her to try to make him feel guilty? She wished she could convince him to put the computer aside so she could take its place on his lap and make it up to him. If she was to go to Braavos as soon as possible, it might be her last chance to kiss him for a while. For some reason it was important to her to finish the kiss she had started in his study. She wanted to know if she could get him to respond to her again, and she _really_ wanted to know if he liked her as much as she liked him.

Probably not. If he could think that she was just some horrible, manipulative _slattern_ it was impossible that he liked her as much she liked him. 

But maybe if she convinced him that she only acted the way she did for _him…?_

There was no knock on the front door, despite Davos’ earlier comment about taking up knocking. He and Robert were just suddenly standing in the entrance hall, easily visible through the open door that separated the rooms. Robert looked just the way he had looked the last time Sansa had seen him, big, tall and round, his face half-covered in neatly trimmed black hair.

Sansa immediately stood up and ran towards Robert, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Robert was more of an uncle to her than Uncle Edmure had ever been. She had barely ever spent any time with Uncle Edmure growing up, while Robert had always been around. Stannis hadn’t been around nearly as much as Robert - only for special occasions, really - so it was very different to see Robert standing in front of her compared with seeing Stannis. It was almost like seeing _family._

“Sansa! Gods above, is it really you?” Robert was _crying_ and hugging her back tightly. His tears triggered another crying jag from her, and they just stood and cried for a while, propping each other up and occasionally looking at each other to make sure that what they were seeing was real. Something fragile broke inside Sansa as she cried for the second time that day, and she felt utterly lost and confused, while at the same time impossibly happy to receive such _uncomplicated_ comfort. It was a relief to feel utterly unconcerned with how her face must look blotchy and swollen, and not even think about how to best fit her body against him so he would be aware of her curves.

Davos arrived with a box of tissues when their crying wound down to the occasional hiccough, and they gratefully wiped their faces and blew their noses. (Robert sounded like he was attempting to play the trumpet.)

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Robert said, awe in his voice as he stared at Sansa in amazement, shaking his head a little from side to side.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you again!” Sansa said, smiling through her tears.

“Perhaps you would like to continue the reunion in a more comfortable setting?” Stannis suggested.

“Well, let’s go to the kitchen, then. The living room sofa is a torture device, and the dining room isn’t exactly cosy, either,” Sansa said, making Robert burst out laughing even as tears continued to leak from his eyes. Sansa wasn’t really sure why he laughed, but didn’t think too hard about it. She didn’t really think Stannis would mind her critical assessment of the available seating in his house as he hadn’t looked especially comfortable in the living room either. She would have suggested his study, but she thought the sofa and the armchair in there could probably only seat three people comfortably.

Sansa and Stannis immediately set about making tea for everyone when they got to the kitchen. Stannis brewed the actual tea while Sansa found some chocolate biscuits and arranged them prettily on a plate.

Once they all had a hot cup of tea in front of them and a chocolate biscuit to munch on, Robert asked Sansa for her story. She looked at Stannis hesitantly, but decided that Robert had to mean her _whole_ story, not just the story of how Stannis had found her and helped her escape, and started to speak, beginning her tale with how she had woken up with Petyr hovering nearby to tell her that her entire family had been murdered and that she would have to go into hiding.

It all came pouring out, the way that Petyr had been kind to her at first, taking her to the Eyrie and giving her a new name to protect her, but making sure she had private instructors and all the creature comforts she could desire. She explained how Petyr had been very helpful when she had first got a serious crush on a boy some months later, a son of a business contact of Petyr’s that they had dined with a few times. Petyr had taught her how to flirt effectively and eventually he had taught her how to kiss.

She left out the parts about how he always liked her to sit on his lap as he rubbed his erection against her, and how he had started to fondle her breasts, too.

Instead she told them how Petyr had punished her if she said no to him.

“I’M GOING TO PULVERISE THAT RAT BASTARD!” Robert roared when she finished telling them about the time on the balcony, in her underwear.

“We will crush him the _legal_ way, Robert. Violence won’t solve anything. How will you help Sansa if you’re in jail?” Stannis ground out, although the look in his eyes convinced Sansa that he wanted Petyr’s blood just as much as Robert did. It gave her a very warm feeling in the pit of her stomach to see it.

Sansa went on, telling them how she had been cut off from all means of communication, and far away from any people who might have helped her. Always for her own good, of course. Always to protect her from her would-be murderers. But by the time she had been with Petyr for two years, she understood exactly what was going on.

“I wasn’t surprised, not _really_ , when he told me he would be selling my virginity to the highest bidder...” she said, trailing off and staring at her empty cup of tea.

Robert looked like he was barely restraining himself from shouting again. She could tell that he was counting to ten in his head, and he was taking deep, calming breaths. “Well, at least the little shit didn’t manage that. He didn’t count on Stannis being there to help you, did he?” Robert gloated, still looking angry, but slightly less like he was about to erupt like a volcano. Sansa was very glad that he was blissfully unaware of the fact that Stannis had actually taken her virginity, but she noticed the looks that passed between Stannis and Davos at Robert’s words and realised that Stannis must have told Davos about it. It made her blush to know that Davos was aware of what had happened between her and Stannis, and she wondered what had possessed Stannis to tell his friend something so private. She hoped he had a good reason, because if he had just blabbed for the hell of it she would be very mad at him.

“I’m sure you would have recognised me too, and helped me if you had been there,” Sansa said sweetly, deliberately planting the idea of Robert having to do what Stannis had done in Stannis’ mind. She watched him carefully and saw when the hit landed. He paled noticeably and pressed his lips together until nothing could be seen but a very thin line.

“Of course!” Robert said confidently, having no idea what rescuing her had truly entailed. Stannis had gone from white to red and there was a vein throbbing on the side of neck. He’d be grinding his teeth next, Sansa was sure.

“I really don’t know what would have happened to me if Stannis hadn’t won me…” Sansa sighed, continuing her story. She skipped over most of what she had done with Stannis, saying only that they had been able to whisper to each other and plot her escape, and she also skipped over most of the horrible events between Stannis leaving her and Davos picking her up. She only said that Petyr had wanted to _have her_ , but that she had managed to delay his advances. (Robert banged his fist on the table and swore a blue streak until Stannis shushed him.) She didn’t explain that she had used her mouth to delay him. Even if it had been her choice, and it had given her more control than she would have had with Petyr sticking his cock between her legs, it had still been a violation, and she didn’t want Robert to know about it. She was sure he’d do more than beat up the furniture if he ever found out.

“I was lucky that Gregor Clegane landed himself in hospital last night. I didn’t even have to use my entire supply of sleeping powder to knock his brother out and escape the house.” Sansa left out the part about how she had been tied up, and how she would probably still be tied to the bed if Sandor hadn’t been kind enough to release her.

“It wasn’t luck!” Robert chortled, “Stannis told me Gregor Clegane usually guarded you so I paid a man to start a brawl with him and make sure he was incapacitated. I wanted to fight him myself, but it would have been suspicious if I had shown up at work with a black eye or two!”

Sansa believed Robert. Even though he was getting old, it was easy to glimpse the young man he had once been, the one who liked to get drunk and start bar fights. Much to her mother’s chagrin she’d heard her father tell Robb a few stories that usually all ended with her dad somehow being forced to get Robert out of trouble with their school, his parents, or even the police.

“Thank you, I probably wouldn’t be here if Gregor had been guarding me,” Sansa said sincerely, meeting Robert’s gaze and reaching for his hand to clasp it briefly. She owed Robert and Stannis her freedom, and she could not have been more genuinely grateful even if Robert had beaten the Mountain up himself.

Robert’s eyes almost went watery again at her look, but he swallowed and smiled instead. “I’ll be sure to give Bronn a bonus, then,” he said hoarsely.

They continued to look at each other and smile until Robert cleared his throat and reminded Sansa to finish her story, so she briefly explained how Davos had picked her up and sailed with her to Dragonstone.

“I’m so glad I’m free now, and even though I won’t be able to go about my life just yet, it’s so lovely to be nearby King’s Landing and know that you can come visit me occasionally and let me know how things are progressing,” Sansa finished, directing her words at Robert but shooting Stannis a pert look. She wasn’t going to make it _easy_ for Stannis to talk Robert into sending her to Braavos.

Stannis glared at her, obviously irritated. “Sansa won’t be able to stay here for long, however.”

“Certainly not, someone is bound to spot you eventually and report it to Baelish. You’ll go mad being cooped up, too. Dragonstone will only work for a few months at most, but hopefully it won’t take that long to prove that you’re you,” Robert agreed easily, speaking to Sansa.

“No, Robert. I don’t think she should stay more than a few days at most. I think we should send her to Braavos. Baelish won’t expect that, and she needs to be able to walk outside and go about her day as normally as possible.”

“What’s your damn rush? You heard her, she wants me to visit! I’m her godfather!”

Robert and Stannis argued about it for half an hour straight, but eventually Stannis got his way. Davos would make the necessary arrangements and smuggle her to Braavos without getting her name on any international flight manifests or taking her through any of the obvious channels. He said he needed a few days to prepare, and Sansa would be staying in the apartment on Dragonstone until then. _Not_ at Stannis’ house.

“You will be perfectly safe, and Davos will look in on you every day. If you need anything at all, just call and it will be taken care of,” Stannis promised, leaving no room for argument.

“Won’t it be simpler if she just stays here?” Robert asked, looking confused.

“I don’t wish for my housekeeper to see her, she might let something slip when the wrong ears are listening. Additionally, Baelish might send someone to look for her. If Sansa stayed here, the housekeeper wouldn’t be around, so I’d be the one answering the door. That by itself might be enough to set off alarms. It would also seem awfully suspicious if _I_ acted too suspicious of my ‘visitors’ and reluctant to let anyone inside,” Stannis explained, his tone irritated.

“You’re paranoid,” Robert said, shaking his head, “Sansa will be bored cooped up all by herself!”

“She’d be by herself for most of the day even if she stayed here,” Stannis argued, “I’m at work nearly all the time.”

“It’s fine, Robert. I understand why it’s better for me to stay in a separate space. It’s only for a few days, anyway. It doesn’t matter,” Sansa said soothingly, pleased to see that she was managing to settle all of Robert’s ruffled feathers.

“Well, if you say so, sweetheart,” Robert said, smiling and looking at her with so much paternal affection that it made her throat constrict. She had to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths to keep herself from starting to cry again.

Her parents and her siblings might be gone, but Sansa suddenly felt like she had been given a piece of them back. A piece of _family._


	10. Farewell

Sansa was surprised to find that her temporary little apartment was quite cosy. The building didn’t look like much from the outside, and she didn’t have a lot of neighbours, but on the inside it had everything she could possibly need. It was a very simple apartment with one main room that served as a kitchen, a dining room and a living room. A door led to a bedroom with an en suite, and there was a small balcony accessible from the living room. There was comfortable furniture scattered about, an overstuffed couch and a beaten up old leather armchair, a low coffee table with a stack of magazines on it, and a dining room table that could seat six. There weren’t any personal touches, but the colour scheme was all in soft, warm hues, and there was a pretty painting on the wall depicting a sunset. 

She had everything she needed, except maybe some company. It was so quiet that she ended up leaving the television on at low volume to help her fall asleep her first night, liking the sound of chattering voices in the background. (She hoped Stannis was very lonely all by himself in his big scary house. It would serve him right.)

To her surprise, there was a knock at her door rather early the next morning. She hadn’t been expecting anyone except Davos, and he had said that he would probably look in on her around lunch.

Feeling a trickle of fear, she crept to the door as quietly as she could, peeking through the little peephole and holding her breath. On the other side of the door stood Davos and a very kind looking woman. Immensely relieved, Sansa opened the door at once.

“I know I said I would look in around lunch, but I was telling my wife about some of the things that have been going on last night, and she insisted that she should stay with you today while I’m at work. Only if you don’t mind, of course,” Davos babbled, looking a little sheepish.

“I’m Marya,” the kind looking woman said, holding her hand out and smiling brightly.

Sansa shook her hand, and couldn’t help smiling at her in return. She liked Marya instantly. “I’m Sansa. It’s so lovely to meet you! Davos told me all about you and the boys yesterday,” she said happily.

“Oh! How wonderful! Then you’ll know all about our youngest: little Stanny. I’ve brought him with me since he’s not even one year old, yet. Is it okay if he stays too?” Marya pointed to a baby carriage that she had parked beside the door, just a little out of Sansa’s line of sight. Sansa squealed happily at the sight of the sleeping baby, and Davos used the opportunity to slip away.

“Call if you need anything,” he reminded them, kissing his wife on the cheek.

Sansa spent the morning getting to know Marya and cuddling with baby Stanny once he woke up from his nap. She hadn’t been around any children since Rickon was small, and she was reluctant to part with him. Unfortunately Marya still breastfed him, so Sansa was forced to give him up whenever he was hungry.

“I think he likes me,” Sansa said, making faces at Stanny and enjoying his smiles.

“If what Davos tells me is true, he has that in common with the man he’s named after,” Marya said with an amused smile. Sansa blushed, but didn’t say anything. “He’s a very happy baby,” Marya went on fondly, “and actually sits still to be cuddled most of the time. His brothers were little monsters in comparison.”

“Rickon definitely wasn’t this content to be cuddled,” Sansa said, feeling a mixture of sadness and happiness at being able to talk about Rickon; her wild little brother who had been murdered before he even started school…

“Rickon was your little brother?” Marya asked delicately.

“Yes, I had two younger brothers. One older. I had a younger sister, too, but the two of us never really got along,” Sansa sighed, taking comfort and strength from the cheerful baby on her lap. He smelled wonderful, just like a baby ought to smell. A scent that put her in mind of fresh baked bread, creamy butter, and cinnamon, but was somehow even better.

By the afternoon, Sansa felt as if she had known Marya her whole life. It was wonderful to have her around, as she was constantly distracting Sansa with chatter about her boys, her book club, the gardening she intended to get done when the summer finally arrived, the clothes she was determined to fit back into when she finally lost the rest of the baby weight, and a million other wonderful mundane things that had nothing to do with sex.

Sansa hadn’t quite realised it, but now that she thought about it, she didn’t think she had gone more than about two hours at a time without somehow being reminded of sex, or something sexual in nature, over the past year or so. Now she was alone with a woman and a baby, however, and there was no man around to impress or flirt with. No one to look at her with desire in their eyes. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Despite this, she couldn’t stop herself from constantly fretting about her posture, and wondering if her hair was behaving, and trying to make sure her arms were resting in a flattering way against her body and not creating any funny creases.

Marya and Stanny came back the next day, and the day after that. On the third day Sansa managed to only think about how she looked every now and again, instead of practically constantly. Sansa wondered how much progress she would have made if she’d spent an entire week with Marya, but it was not to be. On the fourth day, Davos told them that he had finished making the arrangements, and that he and Sansa would be going to Braavos very early the next morning.

“I’ll be going with you to help you get all your documents in order, and introduce you to Miss Daenerys Targaryen. Stannis tells me that she is related to the Baratheons, lives in Braavos and is about your age. She is the reason why he thought Braavos would be the best place to send you,” Davos explained, “she’ll help you settle in properly.”

Marya helped Sansa pack the few things that Sansa thought she might like to take with her to Braavos, but that didn’t take very long. They spent the rest of their last day together in much the same way they had spent their previous days, talking about everything and nothing.

As the afternoon wore on, Marya seemed to gather her courage. Sansa could tell that she wanted to bring up a difficult subject, and steeled herself for the worst. Marya hadn’t asked her to share any of the details of what she had been through, and it had been nice not having to think about it. But she supposed it was natural that Marya would eventually want to hear the story.

“I know it’s not my place, but I looked up a few names for you. Psychologists practising in Braavos - therapists that specialise in helping people who have been through difficult things like you have,” Marya said kindly, handing Sansa a piece of paper.

“I suffered from postpartum depression after Matthos was born and seeing a therapist helped me immensely. I only wish I had thought of it much sooner than I did! Talking to someone impartial, someone who understands how to help you heal… it’s so wonderful. It really is.”

Sansa stared at Marya in amazement, accepting the piece of paper mutely. It seemed extraordinary that someone so perfectly maternal could ever have suffered postpartum depression.

“Thank you,” Sansa finally managed to whisper. Oddly, she felt both relieved and disappointed that Marya hadn’t tried to ask her for her story.

“You’re very welcome,” Marya said warmly, sitting down next to Sansa on the comfortable couch. “I don’t know the details of what happened to you, but Davos told me enough. I hope Robert and Stannis have been doing their duty and reminding you that you are not to blame for anything that happened, and that you _will_ recover from your experiences.”

Sansa was glad that Stanny was currently sleeping in his carriage, because she was overcome with the urge to hug Marya, and holding a baby would have made it difficult. Hugging Marya was absolutely wonderful, and it made Sansa tear up because it was so much like hugging her mother had been like; soft, warm, and soothing. One grief-stricken tear turned into two, and suddenly Sansa was crying, unable to stop, unable to really understand _why._

“It’s all going to be fine, just you wait and see. I’m sure it will all work out…” Marya murmured softly, stroking her back comfortingly.

It took Sansa a while to cry herself out, but for the first time in _years_ she felt almost like herself again. Marya was right. She would recover from what Petyr had done to her, she would reclaim her name, and she would live her life. It might take some time, but she was convinced it would all work out, just like Marya said. Robert, Stannis, Davos, Marya and even Uncle Edmure would help her. Maybe that Daenerys girl would help her, too? At least while Sansa was in Braavos.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

***

Sansa, Robert, Stannis and Davos all had dinner together at Stannis’ house that evening. Davos had talked his friend Patches into smuggling Robert in this time. Sansa had wanted to invite Patches to dinner too, but apparently he wasn’t much for company and preferred to stay aboard his boat until Robert was ready to leave again. She and Davos would be staying most of the night at Stannis’ house and leaving before dawn. They were going to hitch a ride to Braavos with an old friend of Davos’ called Salladhor Saan. Saan was apparently going to be sailing there anyway, and he had experience getting things into the country without attracting attention. Stannis asked Davos not to tell him any of the details surrounding Salladhor Saan, as it would frustrate him to know if he was involving Sansa in some sort of illegal operation.

“You mean more illegal than smuggling a person from one country to another without any valid identification?” Davos asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stannis glared at his friend and took a bite of his lasagna. The housekeeper was off duty again, but apparently she had left the lasagna ready to be popped into the oven. Stannis had managed to warm some garlic bread to go with it, and he had also put together a green salad. It was a simple, but very good meal. Robert had brought a bottle of wine, but he and Sansa were the only ones imbibing. Sansa only drank one glass, however, while Robert polished off the rest of the bottle without looking even a little tipsy. They ate in the dining room, but retired to the kitchen for the more comfortable chairs and the cosy atmosphere after they had eaten.

Robert and Sansa carried the conversation after dinner. She asked him to share stories of his youth and her father, and he was happy to oblige her. Everything he told her about her father was precious to her, but especially precious if it was a story she had not heard before. She had thought she would never get the chance to make fresh memories of her father or any of her family members, but hearing stories that were unfamiliar to her gave her new memories in a way, even if they were old news to Robert.

Eventually Stannis insisted that Robert leave and allow Sansa to go to bed. “She and Davos have to get up at five. They should have been in bed an hour ago,” he said firmly, shooing his brother towards the mahogany wardrobe in the entrance hall.

Robert crushed her to his big, warm chest and tickled her neck with his beard in a fatherly gesture of farewell, and made her promise to keep in touch. Sansa was constantly amazed at how easy it was to get in touch with people now that she had unlimited access to the Internet. She wondered how different her life had been if she’d only been able to get a message to Uncle Edmure or to Robert over the net instead of having to wait around until someone who recognised her practically stumbled over her. She squeezed Robert back as tightly as she could, not really wanting to leave him behind after such a ridiculously short time together. When they finally broke apart he kissed her forehead, and she wished and wished that she didn’t have to go to Braavos.

“I’ll miss you,” she told him a little shakily.

“I’ll miss you too, sweetheart,” Robert returned, his eyes looking a little watery. “I’ll make sure Varys doesn’t take too long about proving who you are,” he said, gaining control over himself and ruffling her hair a little. Usually she would have been supremely annoyed by the gesture, but at the moment she was perfectly willing to be treated like a little kid. It was comforting.

Once Robert was gone, she, Stannis and Davos quietly got ready to retire for the night. Stannis lingered downstairs, putting dirty glasses away, turning off lights and locking doors. Sansa checked on her luggage - not much to speak of - and went through her nightly bedtime routine. She said, “goodnight, see you in a few hours,” to the two men, closed her door and got into bed. 

But she had absolutely no intention whatsoever of going to sleep. She was quite finished with the ‘being treated like a kid’ portion of the evening.

Seeing Stannis again after a few days apart had been exhilarating. Her time with Marya had made her question the way she felt about him, but as soon as she saw him she knew there was no question. She _liked_ him. He made her heart beat faster, and her stomach do flips. Over dinner she kept thinking about their unfinished kiss, and she had lost track of the conversation at least twice because she had slipped into a daydream where she and Stannis were alone and able to finish it.

So if Stannis thought she would make do with hugging him goodbye as she had his brother, he had another thing coming. She was determined to leave him with a lasting impression that would have him working _tirelessly_ with Robert to get justice for her. She was pretty convinced he would do that no matter what based on how he had acted after hearing what she’d been through, but it never hurt to make sure.

She was definitely not just sneaking to his bed an hour after she should have gone to sleep to prove to herself that even without the high stakes of her impending escape from Petyr to spur him on, she could still get him to do whatever she wanted. Get him to admit that he _liked_ her. And she was definitely not trying to get him back for _rejecting_ her and implying that she only liked him because Petyr had somehow messed her up. (She liked him for many, very good, very _firm, hard and sculpted_ reasons…)

The house was very dark and quiet, and Sansa was careful not to bump into anything as she made her way down the hallway to Stannis’ door. She had been sleeping in Shireen’s room, and it was not very far from the master suite. Opening the door without making a sound was the hardest part. She was required to do it very slowly, and the door kept threatening to creak as she inched it open just enough to slip inside. Once she was in she froze and listened intently. Judging by the deep, even breathing she could hear, Stannis was fast asleep. She closed the door again behind her, just as slowly and silently as she had opened it.

Sansa took a deep, quiet breath and told her heart to stop making such a racket. She tip-toed to Stannis’ bed and paused to peer at it in the darkness. It was a very big bed with an antique bed frame made of highly polished wood. There were carvings at the head and foot of the bed, but it was too dark for Sansa to be able make them out properly. Based on her experience with the house, she guessed the carvings depicted dragons. Stannis was lying on his back, his lips parted and his eyes closed. Occasionally his breathing was interrupted by a soft snore. It made Sansa smile to hear it because there was something so delightfully _human_ about it. She liked everything about Stannis that was different from his robotic façade.

Taking another deep breath to steady her nerves, she unbuttoned the shirt she was using as a nightgown and let it fall to the floor, leaving her naked. Being naked near Stannis gave her a feeling that was completely different from the sick, vulnerable feeling that had filled her when she had been naked and at Petyr’s mercy. Instead of feeling vulnerable she felt _excited_ and full of tingling anticipation. She found the edge of the covers and slid underneath, holding her breath the entire time and listening for changes in Stannis’ breathing. He wasn’t stirring, so she moved until she was pressed right up against him. She was delighted to find that he slept bare-chested, and only slightly put out to find that he seemed to feel the need to wear pyjama bottoms. A delicate, probing touch under the waistband confirmed that he wasn’t wearing underwear underneath. She could work with that.

Still listening for any changes in his breathing, she let the tips of her fingers ghost over his chest, down over his lickable abs - _Gods. that had been fun_ \- and all the way to his soft cock. She cupped him gently through the cotton of his sleepwear, and began to stroke him rhythmically, almost squealing with nervous excitement when his body began to respond to her touch at once. He was fully erect within moments, tenting his pyjama bottoms as if trying to escape the constraints.

“Mmm…”

Sansa froze at the sleepy moan that had come from Stannis. Was he awake? She wanted him to wake up eventually, but she wanted him to be a little more worked up when he did. She wanted him to wake up and _ache_ for release. A release she would be only to happy to provide him with. She really didn’t think he’d have the willpower to throw her out of his bed if he woke up with his cock hard and her willing, _naked_ body beside him. Just thinking about it was making her want to press her thighs together tightly, and she felt flushed and out of breath. Her heart was beating harder than ever before, and her attempts at calming herself down were not being met with much success.

His arm wrapped around her and pulled her tight against him and he sighed. It felt _wonderful_ and Sansa had to resist the urge to wriggle happily against him. His breathing became even after a little while, and Sansa started to stroke him again, smiling whenever his cock twitched under her hand as if it were eager for more.

“Wha - Sansa?” Stannis went from confused, sleepy mumbling to choked gasp of disbelief in less than five seconds. He pulled his arm away, no longer holding her, and sat up to light the lamp on his nightstand. Sansa squinted against the sudden brightness, but adjusted to it fairly quickly. She arranged her face into a pleading expression.

“Don’t kick me out, please. I just wanted to say goodbye properly…”

“Seven fucking hells, are you _naked?_ ” Stannis hissed, his eyes widening to an almost comical extent.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before…” Sansa trailed off, sitting up so that he would get a good look at her chest, deliberately moving a lock of hair out of the way. She felt herself blushing as she did it, but she was _determined_ to get her way.

Stannis glanced down at her breasts and then squeezed his eyes shut. “You have to go.”

“But you haven’t asked me what I wanted to do,” she said temptingly, making her voice low and as seductive as she could.

“I can imagine,” he choked out, his eyes still closed.

Sansa wished she was the kind of girl who could get away with answering that with a quip like: _’are you imagining my lips around your cock?’_ but she had used every molecule of bravery in her body to crawl naked into Stannis’ bed. She felt herself blush more deeply at the very idea of saying something so brazen, and decided to say something a bit less risqué instead. Something true and _convincing._

“You know, I’m probably going to stay away from guys for a while after I get to Braavos,” she began softly, “I don’t think I’ll mind being by myself and getting to know what that’s like, as long as I don’t have to stay locked up in some apartment like I’ve had to for the past few days,” she continued, reaching to run her hand up and down Stannis’s arm. She considered it a small victory when he didn’t move away, and the red hue of his face made her feel braver and braver. “I don’t think I’ll mind being by myself because I’ll have some nice memories to keep me entertained when I get _lonely._ ” It was spur of the moment, but Sansa thought it wouldn’t hurt to give him a mental image of herself getting off to thoughts of him. She blushed when she realised that she could actually see herself doing that at some point. Maybe knowing about it would feed his ego a bit and make him more confident when it came to ‘bedroom things and women’? She smiled and bit her lip at the thought, relieved to see that he still had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. (She doubted he would appreciate her smiling at his expense.)

“... except there’s just one memory that I’d really like to replace with something better,” she said, after giving him a while to let the idea of her ‘entertaining herself’ sink in.

Stannis opened one eye to peer at her. She knew she had him, then. He was worried that something he had done hadn’t been good for her, judging by the vaguely panicked look in his eye.

“Remember how I had to keep Petyr from doing anything to me?” she hinted, reminding him of her only other encounter with a man. She hated to think of it, but she was not above referencing it to get her way. She genuinely did want to replace the memory of going down on Petyr with a memory of doing something similar for Stannis, after all. Even though it was a little scary, and even though it would reopen a badly healed wound, she still wanted to try it. Sometimes an infected wound _needed_ to be reopened so that it would heal properly.

This time it would hopefully be truly consensual and allow her to experience doing something like that because she just _wanted_ to.

But first she had to get Stannis to want it.

“Do you think you could ‘imagine’ letting me make a new memory that will overshadow that one?” she asked as sweetly as she could, glad that he had opened both eyes to stare at her in disbelief because that meant she could beg him with her most imploring, pleading gaze. The first thing to do when you wanted something was to ask nicely, after all.

Stannis had flushed completely red, and Sansa hoped some of it was due to arousal rather than embarrassment. His irregular breathing definitely indicated that she was having an effect…

“Y-you want to - er - what?” he spluttered articulately.

“I want to try to do what I only pretended to do for you last time. It’s only fair if you think about it, you did it for me, remember?” Sansa thought it was a rather brilliant touch to appeal to his sense of fairness, and hoped she was able to hide her glee at thinking of it.

“You can’t,” he said awkwardly, but his eyes were saying something else entirely.

“Please? I’d really like to,” she asked prettily, pouting at him and leaning forwards a little to draw his attention to her breasts.

“This is a really bad idea,” he choked out, eyes darting to her nipples and then back to her face at the speed of light.

“I could just try it for a little while, and if you don’t like it you can just tell me to stop?” she wheedled, amazed that Stannis was the sort of person that had to be persuaded to accept oral sex he obviously wanted very badly.

“It’s not right…” he said hoarsely, shaking his head slightly.

“You know, I wished I had done it with you when I was forced to do it for Petyr. I thought about how much better it would have been with you… if I had wanted it... if I had _enjoyed_ it.” Sansa was telling the truth, and she knew Stannis would be able to tell because she was looking him straight in the eye as she spoke. “I just want to know what it’s like when it’s _good._ ”

She moved forwards, and dragged the covers off Stannis’ lap, revealing the impressive erection he was still sporting. She reached for it slowly, giving Stannis plenty of time to protest, but he didn’t. He drew in a sharp breath when she touched him, and she glanced at his face briefly, just to check whether he was really okay with her doing this. He had closed his eyes and screwed his face into a sort of grimace.

“I’m not going to do this if you don’t want me to, Stannis,” she said simply, retracting her hand after stroking him a few times.

He opened his eyes and gave her a tortured look.

“Do you want to let me do this?”

He blew out a breath, looked briefly at the ceiling, and finally nodded. It was as if he was saying: _’Gods help me, but yes.’_

That was all Sansa needed to know. He was hers now, willing and at her mercy. It was just as exciting as it had been back in the room with the view; to know that she had all the power, and that he would not try to wrest it from her.

“Come sit on the edge of the bed,” she asked softly, grabbing a pillow and setting it down on the floor. She wanted to kneel naked in front of him, in between his legs, and have him watch her. She was sure it would be an experience he would not soon forget, and neither would she. She wanted to make it as memorable as possible so that it might eclipse what she’d had to do for Petyr. She wanted _this_ experience to be what she thought about whenever she was reminded of oral sex for whatever reason.

“You can touch my hair if you like, but please don’t pull or push me,” she directed him, making her rules clear so that he wouldn’t accidentally do anything that brought her back to what she’d done before. Stannis swallowed thickly and nodded in agreement. His eyes were a little wide and there was a dazed quality to his general expression that made Sansa think that he wasn’t really sure if he was awake or not.

She pulled his pyjama bottoms down and off, and he lifted himself up a little so that she’d have an easier time of it. His cock sprang free, looking rather large and ready for her, and then it was her turn to swallow nervously, understanding a little too late that she may have overestimated her ability to cope with all of _that._

_Definitely bigger than Petyr’s._

But she was determined, and she wanted to try. She’d just start with some easy touches to get them both relaxed. Smiling inwardly, she began to do the things she had done when she had been helping him ‘act’. She touched his inner thigh, breathed hot air on the skin near his erection - but not quite on it - sucked and licked his lower abdomen next to where the trail of dark hair ended right above his cock, and raked her nails down his inner thighs - both at once. The smell of his musky arousal was just as heady as it had been the last time she had been doing this, but it was stronger now that there was no underwear in the way. She could feel herself growing even damper than she already was in response to it.

When he started to make noises that could only be described as whimpers she relented and began to lick his cock slowly. He tasted like nothing in particular: just like clean skin. He was perhaps a little salty at the tip, but otherwise the taste was unremarkable. She continued at her slow pace for a good while, her tongue sliding against his skin in long, langorous licks from the base to the head, again and again without sucking on him or using her hand to grip his shaft, or anything that might actually help bring him closer to release. She was teasing him, and she was enjoying it thoroughly; it was wonderful to do this with a man who would allow her tease him.

By the time he was panting and holding on to the covers as if his life depended on the grip, Sansa decided to have mercy on him. She wrapped her hand around the thick base of his cock, his coarse black hairs tickling her fingers. She began to move her hand up and down, smooth, soft skin sliding along the hardness underneath. She made her grip firmer and watched his face to see if he liked it better or worse. It was hard to tell because his grimace could have indicated either pain or pleasure, but judging by the groan that fell from his lips she was on the right track. She kept going until she was sure she had found a grip and a rhythm that he liked, and then she bent to take him into her mouth.

She pulled the skin back from the head and wrapped her lips around it, tasting him with her tongue as she did, sliding it against the divot slowly. A bit of clear liquid had seeped out, and it tasted bitter and salty. She kept moving her hand, and when she felt confident that she wouldn’t graze him with her teeth, she sucked experimentally and used her free hand to fondle the soft sac that she had left alone up until then.

“Oh, _fuck!_ ” he hissed, his hips shifting in a way she expected had been a hastily repressed thrust forward.

She _definitely_ had him. He was exposed and vulnerable, gasping and shuddering, and he had _surrendered._

It was just as difficult to keep track of everything this time as it had been with Petyr, but she was not worried or stressed about it now. If she accidentally hurt him with her teeth he might flinch, but nothing more, she was sure. She enjoyed listening to his laboured breathing, his gasped swear words and half strangled moans. Each sound seemed to send a jolt of pleasure through to her core, and she was really becoming so very _wet._ She really liked it when he let go of his death grip on the covers and moved to stroke her hair gently as she pumped her hand up and down, stroked his rapidly tightening sac, and sucked greedily on the head of his cock.

“Oh - I - _Sansa!_ ” Stannis gasped out, a more desperate meaning behind his garbled words than before. She understood why when she began to taste a familiar, but still different, taste in her mouth. His powerful thigh muscles seemed to be vibrating with tension, and she knew he was probably using a lot of willpower to keep from thrusting up and forwards into her mouth as he came. He was still moaning quietly when she licked him clean, swallowing every last drop he gave her with relish. 

It was incredibly satisfying to see him come undone like this, but at the same time she was aching for completion and feeling decidedly _unsatisfied._

All of his earlier resistance seemed to have melted from him, because it was easy for Sansa to make him lie properly on the bed and he didn’t object when she cuddled up next to him, pulling the covers over them and tugging on his arm until he wrapped it around her and held her securely against his chest.

“Did you like it?” she asked after a while, curious to hear what he’d say, and quietly wondering whether he’d mind if she pressed herself against his thigh and tried for a little friction. She was getting desperate.

He didn’t answer straight away, though he tightened his arm around her a little. She was just about to ask him again when he finally muttered his reply. “More than I should have.” There was guilt in his voice, and Sansa had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Honestly, didn’t she make it perfectly clear that she _wanted_ him? He had no reason to be guilty. She was even legally an adult and everything!

“I really liked it,” she told him flirtatiously, drawing circles on his bare chest and hoping to distract him from his guilty conscience. “If I were staying on the island and living with you I wouldn’t mind doing it again and again if you’d let me,” she whispered temptingly. In her mind’s eye she could see herself making him forget all about work, surprising him by hiding under his desk in the study, dragging him to bed whenever he seemed tense - all the time then, probably - and generally just making him have as much sex as he could stand. The mental images made her smile, and she whispered some of her ideas in his ear.

He groaned and squeezed her with his arm again, and she wasn’t sure if he was trying to tell her to stop or keep talking.

“I’m going to miss you,” she sighed. It was true. She would definitely miss Stannis, even though she’d only met him three times in the last week. She liked the way he came undone under her touch, and she liked the way she felt powerful when she was with him. She had never really felt quite that powerful before.

“It will be good for you to have your own life,” Stannis insisted hoarsely instead of saying something normal like ‘I’ll miss you, too.’

“I suppose,” she said lightly, kissing him quickly on the lips. The quick kiss turned into a deeper kiss - it seemed Stannis did not mind the taste of himself on her tongue - and eventually Stannis ended up kissing a trail down her body, spreading her legs and putting his mouth to good use; reminding her of yet another reason why she liked him quite a lot. He seemed more confident than he had been last time, more practised, and sure of what she liked. Sneaking around and going down on him had wound her up considerably, making her _very_ receptive to his ministrations and _very_ ready to come. He had her keening into a pillow after an embarrassingly short time, but this time he didn’t stop right away like he had before. He kept going relentlessly, holding her still when she became sensitive and tried to squirm away, and bringing her to an even more explosive, drawn out peak. She may have screamed, but her head had gone all fuzzy so she wasn’t quite sure.

When her rational mind returned to her limp, sweaty, and spent body she could hear the tap running in the en suite. It made her want a drink of water, so she gathered her strength and sat up, waiting for Stannis to emerge so she could have her turn.

When she returned to bed she and Stannis had a short, quiet argument about whether she should sleep in his bed or go back to Shireen’s room. Sansa won with her masterful argument of “please, just this once?” and some well timed imploring looks and pouts. Being naked probably helped, too. He did not seem to get tired of sneaking glances at her breasts.

Sansa felt safe and protected next to Stannis, with one of his arms draped around her a little possessively. Feeling his warm skin pressed up against her and listening to his his slow, soothing breathing was wonderful, and she didn’t really want to fall asleep and stop being able to enjoy it. But being wrapped in such a lovely cocoon of warmth, comfort and safety eventually lulled her to sleep, and she enjoyed a deep, peaceful slumber.

She could have sworn that she had only drifted off moments ago when Stannis’ alarm started blaring. For some reason it took her less time than him to come to life, so she turned it off, having to reach across Stannis’ body to do so. Seeing that it was more than half an hour before she and Davos were due to leave, she decided they had time to do a little kissing. Stannis was still asleep, so she started by peppering his cheek and his jaw with feather-light kisses to get him to wake up. Once he seemed awake enough to respond, she kissed his lips, running her tongue along his bottom lip and waiting for him to either take charge or allow her to deepen this kiss. She let out a delighted sound when he thrust his tongue into her mouth and duelled with hers, tightening his grip on her body and grinding his morning wood against her hip.

There was no knock. The door opened and Davos was talking. “Sansa isn’t responding so I thought I’d try to wake you up first and… ah.”

Sansa hid her warm face, pressing it against the crook of Stannis’ neck. _Did that man never knock?_

“I’ll just… go.” Davos hurried to leave the room, closing the door behind him. Sansa knew there would be no more kissing after this interruption.

Stannis made an irritated sort of groaning sound, sat up and turned the lamp on. I wasn’t all that dark in the room because the morning light was filtering in through the curtains where they weren’t quite closed, but the lamp still helped Sansa see Stannis more clearly. He was scowling, but his shoulders were sagging and there was guilty look in his dark eyes.

***

Waking up with Sansa’s naked body in his arms had been like something out of a dream. For a few moments he had half expected to wake up again, alone and cold without the heat of another to warm him. But instead the door had opened and Davos had made Stannis aware of the fact that he was quite awake. Awake, kissing greedily and grinding himself against a naked eighteen year old as if that were a completely acceptable thing to do.

How would he ever be able to look Davos in the eye again after this?

It would have been hard enough to face his friend after what he had allowed Sansa to talk him into. Gods, he had been so _weak._ He wished he could blame the fact that he had been half asleep and not at full capacity, but the second he had noticed that she was naked he had been as alert as if it had been the middle of the day and his house had been on fire. She had just talked him into it somehow. Perhaps it was unfortunate that he was so unappealing that he had never really had to try very hard to repel women. He had very little experience fending off ‘feminine wiles’. Melisandre had been blunt and straightforward, and it had been easy to be blunt and straightforward in return. Sansa was… underhanded and _impossible._

And honestly, he’d like to see Davos try to kick her out of bed when she was naked, and begging to put his cock in her mouth! The mental image of Sansa in bed with Davos enraged him, so he immediately tried to think of something else.

He ended up focusing on the task at hand, namely getting himself dressed and ready to see Sansa and Davos off. Sansa had already left to get dressed, and he suspected that Davos would be in the kitchen.

Stannis didn’t really want to, but he went downstairs to let his only friend tell him off for being a foolish, drooling imbecile. Because that’s what he deserved.

Davos had been sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and munching on toasted bread with butter and cheese. He stood up as soon as Stannis arrived, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head at Stannis as if he couldn’t _believe_ what he’d witnessed.

“Are you completely insane?” Davos hissed, “I mean, I understand why you did what you did to get her away from Baelish, but you can stop now.”

“I know that,” Stannis growled, rubbing his forehead in frustration, “she just showed up while I was sleeping,”

“And you were unable to find the words to tell her to go back to her room?” Davos asked, his tone a mixture of exasperation, incredulity and sarcasm.

“She was naked,” Stannis said, feeling himself redden at how flimsy that sounded.

“Of course she was,” Davos sighed and rolled his eyes, “did you at least use protection, or will I have to somehow procure moon tea while I’m out on the ocean with her?”

Stannis was becoming much too familiar with the burning hot sensation that indicated that his face had gone completely red with embarrassment. “There was no need for protection,” he bit out awkwardly, unable to help glancing down at himself briefly.

Davos just raised an eyebrow at him, but a sliver of sympathetic understanding appeared in his eyes. “Well, that’s something,” Davos sighed. He shook his head and then looked at Stannis with a harsh gleam in his eyes. “You do realise that you’ve just proven that we’re doing the right thing by sending her to Braavos?” he said, his voice determined, “Marya tells me that Sansa has been making a lot of progress the last few days, but one look at you and she’s right back to square one!”

Stannis didn’t say anything. Had he really made Sansa regress? His internal organs felt like they were being squeezed uncomfortably.

“That girl is trouble,” Davos grumbled.

“Am I?” Sansa asked cheerfully as she breezed into the kitchen, dressed and ready to go, “I hope I’m worth it!” She smiled at them both, apparently already recovered from her earlier embarrassment and ready to flirt and charm and... _how did she get her eyes to sparkle like that?_

Davos ignored the attempt. “We need to be at the rendezvous point in ten minutes, you should grab something you can eat on the way,” Davos said, looking at his watch.

They made it aboard Saan’s vessel in a timely manner, and Stannis watched as the large boat grew smaller as it sailed towards the distant horizon. Saying goodbye had been awkward and perfunctory. He had clapped Davos on the back once, and they had exchanged meaningful looks. He had nodded at Sansa, and she had nodded, too, her eyes still sparkling beautifully. Nodding at her seemed a poor way to say goodbye, but Stannis supposed they had already said their more thorough goodbyes in his bed. He hoped none of Saan’s men had noticed him reddening at the thought.

He was sure that Davos would take good care of Sansa and help her get settled with Daenerys. Stannis had been the one to call Daenerys and make sure she was ready to receive Sansa, as Robert was still upset over an argument he’d had with one of the girl’s older brothers some years past and liked to pretend that their Targaryen relations didn’t exist. Davos would stay to help Sansa procure false papers, deal with the bank, and all those other bureaucratic matters that needed to be sorted out, but then it would be up to Daenerys to take care of her. Stannis was sure she would be up to the task despite her young age. He had been keeping tabs on that side of the family, and he knew that Rhaegar - the brother Robert had an argument with - had passed on due to a car accident, and that Daenerys had been forced to have Viserys - her remaining older brother - committed the year before. Apparently he had been abusive and in great need of psychological help. Daenerys, however, was doing quite well as head of the Targaryen estate and would be starting University in the fall. Stannis hoped that Daenerys, having experienced and risen above her share of tragedy and abuse, would be able to understand and help Sansa.

When he could no longer see the boat that would hopefully take Sansa to a more carefree life than the one she was leaving behind, Stannis turned towards his car and faced his considerably careworn one.

***

The day after Stannis watched Sansa sail away to Braavos, Petyr Baelish showed up in his entrance hall. Stannis raised an eyebrow when his housekeeper told him who was calling, surprised that the man would deign to come in person instead of sending an underling.

“Baelish, this is an unpleasant surprise. What brings you to Dragonstone?” Stannis asked, skipping over pleasantries about good evenings and fine weather.

“Is it a surprise?” Baelish asked, giving Stannis a hard look. Stannis was pleased to see that Littlefinger did not look as if he’d been having a good week. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was somehow less impeccably groomed than usually. His clothes looked just as expensive, but they seemed to have been put on in a hurry, and his facial hair was more out of control than Stannis had ever seen it.

“Of course it is,” Stannis answered coolly with a scowl. The housekeeper had allowed Baelish to step into the entrance hall, and Stannis was seriously considering the idea of replacing her for it. He wished very much that he could shove the man out the front door and slam it in his face.

Baelish walked over to a nearby sideboard, empty but for a single picture frame. Stannis started to grind his teeth when Baelish picked the frame up, examining the portrait of Shireen with a detached expression on his face. “I don’t think you’re surprised to see me at all,” he said conversationally, “I think you’ve been expecting me.”

Stannis sneered and fought the urge to cross his arms defensively. Instead he walked over to Baelish and took the frame from his hands and replaced it on the sideboard. “Please don’t touch that, it’s an antique. You understand,” Stannis said, polite only in the strictest sense of the word, his tone dripping venom. “And why on earth would I have been expecting you?” Stannis did not try to act too baffled. Instead he just allowed his hatred to colour his voice. “Was there a problem with the transfer of funds? Did you not receive the correct amount? Because if that’s the case I suggest you take it up with the bank.”

Baelish looked at him intently, searching for the truth. “No, no. Nothing of the sort,” he said, and Stannis only caught the barest hint of irritation in his tone. “I’m looking for someone, and I think you know where she is.”

Stannis was surprised that Baelish would just say it straight out like that, and he raised an eyebrow at the shorter man before calmly claiming to have no idea what Baelish was referring to.

“How was she?” Baelish asked sharply.

Stannis furrowed his brow ostentatiously. “The girl I won?” he asked, trying to sound mildly confused and not enraged.

Baelish gave him an irritated look, but nodded.

“She suited my purposes,” Stannis said vaguely, wincing internally at being forced to speak of Sansa in such a way. “Is she the one you’re looking for?” he asked, aiming with all his might for an unconcerned, curious tone of voice. The murderous glare he was shooting at Baelish could not be helped, however.

“Indeed,” Baelish confirmed, unperturbed by Stannis’ death glare, “I find it very _interesting_ that the first time you condescend to step off your high horse and bid on one of my girls, you choose a girl that is highly connected to your brother, and she vanishes into thin air not two days later.”

Stannis felt a vein on the side of his neck start throbbing when Baelish referred to Sansa as one of ‘his girls’.

“You might find it interesting, but I’m afraid I don’t,” Stannis ground out.

“Did you recognise her?” Baelish asked in a clipped tone of voice.

“I thought you said she was connected to my brother? Why would _I_ recognise her?” Stannis hated lying, so instead of answering properly he sidestepped the issue by asking questions of his own.

Baelish stared at him, obviously trying to work out whether Stannis had known Sansa for who she was. Stannis just scowled at Baelish and focused on hating him. Hopefully Baelish would not be able to see the truth behind the loathing. Happily, Stannis had always despised Littlefinger, so the man ought not be surprised by the furious hostility in his gaze.

“It’s such a shame when brothers can’t get along,” Baelish said at length, his mouth twisting into a sneer, an irritated, disappointed look in his eyes. 

They were silent for a seemingly endless stretch of time, glaring at each other, sneering and scowling respectively.

“You wouldn’t have happened to mention the girl to your brother, now would you?” Baelish asked at length. Stannis hoped the question meant that Baelish believed he hadn’t recognised Sansa.

“No,” Stannis answered quickly and defensively. He was hoping to come off as if he had been intending to tell Robert about the girl, but didn’t want Baelish to know that.

“Waiting for the right moment to rub it in his face?” Baelish asked with a sly, obnoxious smirk.

Stannis narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t know what you mean,” he bit out.

“Of course you don’t,” Baelish said sarcastically, rolling his eyes subtly. He sighed, and made a show of looking around with faked interest. “This is an interesting house you have here, could I persuade you to give me a tour?”

It was a flimsy excuse to have a poke around and check whether Sansa was hidden away in one of the many rooms, and Baelish did not really seem to care that he was being transparent.

“I have work to do. If you really wish for a tour you can trouble my housekeeper with it.”

Stannis called for the woman and asked her to show Baelish around, but make sure that he didn’t touch anything. He didn’t bother to lower his voice when he told her this, and was pleased when he saw Baelish curl his lips into another sneer.

“See him out when you’re done,” Stannis told her lastly, glaring at Baelish and storming off to his study.

Stannis did not like the idea of Baelish loose in his house, but his housekeeper was loyal and well paid; she’d make sure Baelish did not get up to any mischief. As Sansa was long gone, it suited Stannis’ purposes to allow Baelish to see that he was not hiding her anywhere. Hopefully he’d not bother Stannis again after this. It was a little too tempting to make Baelish disappear and pretend he’d never shown up. ( _’I don’t know, officer. Perhaps he drowned?’_ ) Stannis doubted he would be able to resist the temptation if Baelish showed up a second time.

It would probably never work, though. A man like Baelish wouldn’t have travelled alone. There were probably goons outside in Littlefinger’s car, and they would no doubt want the source of their income back.

Stannis sat at his desk, his back straight and his eyes fixed on the wallpaper on his computer desktop, waiting for his housekeeper to knock and inform him that the filthy man had been shown out of his house. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until he knew Littlefinger was gone.

Looking at Shireen’s face helped pass the time. This week’s wallpaper featured a shot of her absorbed in a book; a small smile playing on her lips and a fascinated light in her eyes. Shireen was the best thing to come out of his marriage to Selyse, and it was because of her that he would never regret the years he spent with his ex-wife. He wondered what Shireen would think of Sansa, but pushed the thought away almost as soon as it occurred to him.

When his housekeeper finally informed him that Baelish had left, he allowed himself a deep relieved breath before he started typing. Robert would need to be informed of Littlefinger’s visit.


	11. Braavos

The journey to Braavos went by quickly enough as Saan’s men were a lively bunch, and kept Sansa entertained with stories of their travels and by teaching her complicated card games. Most of the games involved gambling, but as she had nothing to gamble with, they usually played for chocolate biscuits or whatever they had on hand. A few attempted to flirt with her, but she suspected that Davos glared them into submission, because it never went further than a few compliments and winks thrown her way. She did not mind it, oddly enough. It seemed friendly and harmless, and if anyone tried to do anything she didn’t like… well. She was confident that she would be able to get most of the men aboard the ship to throw themselves overboard if she smiled at them the right way. (It would be easy compared with seducing Stannis.) 

The first few days of her stay in Braavos were a blur of accompanying Davos to various dubious places, to speak with dubious people about procuring dubious documents for her. But they all seemed to be on good enough terms with Davos, so she was never frightened or intimidated.

Sansa was, however, intimidated by Daenerys at first.

It seemed strange to Sansa that a girl her own age could command such respect and have such a powerful presence. When Sansa first met her, Daenerys had just finished a meeting with two of her advisors, men who were helping her run Targaryen Enterprises, and Sansa had never seen such distinguished, powerful looking men submit so completely to a little slip of a girl before. She later learnt that their names were Jorah Mormont and Barristan Selmy, and that they were both fiercely loyal to Daenerys and her company.

Daenerys was not only very powerful, she was also quite amazingly beautiful. That, on its own, might have been enough to intimidate Sansa had she been a little younger and more insecure. As it was, Sansa was only a little jealous of Daenerys for having such an unusual eye colour. Purple eyes were not something one saw every day! Combined with her silver hair, Daenerys cut quite the striking figure.

But Daenerys wasn’t at all a frightening girl once you got to know her. Sansa had dinner with Daenerys and Davos on her first night in Braavos, and it took her about five minutes to find out that Daenerys was a passionate humanitarian with a huge soft spot for downtrodden people, an avid supporter of animal rights, and a very invested vegan.

It was easy to talk to Daenerys as she was a good listener, inviting confidence with her open, understanding nature. When Sansa had been on her third glass of Arbor gold, Daenerys had started to delicately ask for details of what had happened to her, and almost without meaning to, Sansa told her the whole story. Stannis obviously hadn’t told Davos _everything_ , because his eyes widened at some parts, and teared up at others, a stricken look of horror never quite leaving his features. Daenerys, meanwhile, had given Sansa a very different look while Sansa spoke; a look of deeply sympathetic understanding. Sansa knew even before Daenerys told her that the powerful girl in front of her had suffered abuse as well, and was not surprised to hear the story of how Viserys, her older brother, had tormented Daenerys mercilessly.

“He was obsessed with the idea of becoming a gang leader in the city. You have to understand that he wasn’t quite right in the head. I think he just watched too many films about gangs and the mafia,” Daenerys explained sadly, “last year he tried to actually go through with it. He contacted the leader of a highly dangerous gang - the Dothrakis - and dragged me along to the meeting he arranged. He had arrived at the idea that he could somehow trade me for leverage within the gang. I really don’t know why,” Daenerys sighed, taking a big swallow of her own glass of Arbor gold. “Thankfully, the leader of the Dothrakis was Drogo, and he was smart enough to figure out that my brother was not mentally sound. He helped me by pretending to go along with my brother’s wishes…”

Daenerys went on to explain how Drogo had given Daenerys the leeway and the manpower to make sure that her brother was caught by the right people as he was spewing his confused ravings, and allowed Daenerys to finally prove that her brother needed to be institutionalised.

Sansa was fascinated when Daenerys added that the experience had ended up bringing her and Drogo together, and that they were currently seeing each other very seriously. It seemed to Sansa that if Daenerys and Drogo could make it work despite the circumstances of their meeting, it shouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for her and Stannis to do the same at some point. But she pushed the thought away, trying to tell herself that Stannis wasn’t likely to want to pursue anything serious with her.

“Drogo’s no longer involved with the gang, of course, although you might think he still was from the look of him!” Daenerys had laughingly told Sansa.

Even with that statement to warn her, Sansa was still a little startled by Drogo’s appearance the first time she met him some days later. Davos had already left, and Sansa had been spending her time getting used to her freedom, getting to know Daenerys, and familiarising herself with the house and the neighbourhood. She was talking to Daenerys about University when Drogo burst through the door of the lounge, obviously looking for his girlfriend. He was a huge, muscular man with olive skin and long black hair. He looked like some sort of savage wildling, but the smile on his face went a long way towards putting Sansa at ease.

“WIFEY!” he shouted happily and tackled Daenerys, who had been in the middle of opening a stack of mail. Envelopes flew everywhere, as Drogo twirled the diminutive blond around, Daenerys shrieking the whole time.

“Put me down you crazy man,” Daenerys giggled, and Drogo did as she asked. Of course he then refused to release her until she succumbed to a big, wet kiss.

“Ah, moon of my life, who is your friend?” Drogo asked, walking over to a nearby table and raiding the bowl of fruit that stood on it.

“This is Catelyn Storm, she’s a distant cousin of mine. Stannis Baratheon asked if she could stay with me for a while,” Daenerys said easily, testing the cover story they had worked out for the first time.

“I thought we didn’t like the Baratheons?” Drogo seemed confused, but not overly so. He bit into an apple and munched on it loudly.

“We don’t really like _Robert,_ ” Daenerys explained, “but Stannis has never done anything to displease me, and Catelyn is a sweet girl.”

Sansa smiled at Daenerys and walked up to Drogo so that she could shake his hand. He shook very enthusiastically, and Sansa had to giggle at the way he smiled and waggled his eyebrows. He reminded her of the way Robb had sometimes behaved when he had been clowning around.

Daenerys smiled and shook her head at her boyfriend’s antics. She picked up where she had left off, trying to convince Sansa to start University with her in the fall. “Anyway, like I was saying, I think you should sign up for some classes. The summer is almost here, and it will be over before you know it. If you have to go back to Westeros in a hurry you can just drop the classes…”

***

Baelish had not bothered Stannis again after the visit he had paid him on Dragonstone. Littlefinger had attempted to interrogate Robert at his next _event_ , however, and Stannis had rarely seen his brother as upset as he had been after that particular evening.

“Did you give anything away?” Stannis demanded, worried about the state his brother was in.

“No, damn you! No! I managed not to clock the bastard and I stuck to the story,” Robert growled, gulping down two fingers of whiskey in one swallow, “but Stannis... How could you stand seeing her in that place? I kept imagining what it must have been like for her, and I saw her face on every girl there!” he continued, his eyes watery and his voice shaking.

Stannis patted his brother awkwardly on the shoulder, knowing exactly what Robert had to be feeling.

“She escaped,” he said curtly, willing his brother to _stop drinking_ and pull himself together.

“Years! Years, Stannis! She spent _years_ with that evil, smug shitstain… And where was I?” Robert was hiccoughing and he had lost the battle to keep his tears at bay.

“You didn’t know. Neither one of us knew,” Stannis said quietly, trying to mask his own pain and regret.

“Promise me that we’ll make him pay! PROMISE ME!” Robert roared, his tears giving way to fury. Stannis winced at the volume of his brother’s voice, but he knew Robert’s anger would burn itself up soon enough. He would not be required to listen to much more shouting.

“I swear it,” Stannis said, looking his brother straight in the eye.

***

It took several months to prove that Sansa was the last living Stark - an heiress - and it was a media _sensation_ when the news finally broke. But it did not make nearly as much of a splash as the Arrest. Stannis and Robert had worked hard to gather evidence and build a case against Baelish while Varys had worked on proving Sansa’s identity, and they had managed to get the handful of straight cops in the city to arrest Baelish on the same day Varys filed to change Sansa Stark’s official status from deceased to living.

Stannis wished he could have been there when they arrested Baelish. He was certain that the look on Littlefinger’s face would have been satisfying to behold. Alas, Stannis was not a police officer, and their attorney, Mr. Cressen, insisted that Robert and Stannis should avoid making things personal with Baelish. The man did not know that it was through their efforts that a case had been built against him, and although he might suspect, it was important not to risk a confrontation that might let Baelish figure it out for certain.

Robert was furious as he had wanted to at least steamroll over Baelish in the media, but Stannis knew that Cressen was right. They were able to persuade Robert to speak only of his amazement and gratitude at Sansa having been discovered to be alive. Cressen and Stannis had cooked up a story about a suspicious paper trail, an excavation, some DNA testing, and a furious search across Westeros and Essos resulting in Sansa’s discovery. The media had _loved_ it. There was even talk of making a television adaption of the story. Telling the truth had been out of the question, because it was still important that Baelish not know that the Baratheons had recognised her and smuggled Sansa out of the country. They needed him to continue to think that she had somehow got away on her own.

Stannis had learnt through the grapevine that Baelish, unable to pin the blame for Sansa’s escape on Stannis or Robert, had become convinced that Sandor Clegane had simply allowed the girl to slip through his fingers after getting drunk and becoming careless.

Sansa had already started University in Braavos - disguised as Catelyn Storm - when her true name and face started appearing on every television screen and newsstand in Westeros. She did not wish to uproot her new life, and although she could have returned to reclaim her ancestral home at Winterfell, she decided to stay in Braavos and finish her education. She gave no interviews and frustrated the media to no end, but Robert made sure that she was left alone. His clout as a politician was occasionally good for something, Stannis supposed.

Robert spoke to her frequently and Stannis was glad for Robert’s loud mouth for once in his life when it meant that Robert automatically shared news of Sansa with his brother whenever they crossed paths. They met more often these days due to all the court proceedings they both wanted to observe, and Stannis took a lot of pleasure and satisfaction in seeing Baelish squirm and fail at using his connections and his power to get out of paying for what he had done. It had been Robert’s idea to speak to Littlefinger’s most powerful allies and promise them that their names would not be dirtied if they sold Baelish down the river. Stannis didn’t like it, but he put up with it in order to increase the odds of actually getting Littlefinger behind bars. A much easier thing to put up with was the fact that the Hound had unexpectedly stepped forward to testify against Baelish, corroborating Sansa’s testimony and strengthening it. Littlefinger’s defense attorney had been trying to discredit Sansa’s testimony, calling her an unreliable witness and implying that her mental state was less than sound. Sandor’s testimony had completely derailed that ‘defense’.

As more and more of Littlefinger’s dirty laundry was exposed and the more they managed to dig into his past, Stannis started to suspect that the Stark murder had not been a Greyjoy hit as everyone had assumed at the time. The Greyjoy family had a serious grudge against Ned to be sure, and they had never really _denied_ their involvement - though they had of course never confessed to anything either - but Stannis was starting to believe that the Greyjoy mobsters actually _did_ “know nothin’” as they had claimed when interrogated about the matter. Stannis now suspected that Baelish had orchestrated the entire murder just to get his little fingers on Sansa. He doubted he would ever be able to prove it, but it made him even more feverishly intent on getting Baelish locked up for life. He made sure Robert didn’t make the same connections, however. It was hard enough to keep Robert from strangling Baelish in the middle of the court proceedings as it was. Stannis often wondered why he kept talking his brother out of it. He would not shed a tear if Baelish were to suffer an early death. ( _Suffer_ being the operative word.)

“Did I tell you that Sansa has a boyfriend?” Robert asked with a good-natured chuckle one day when they were both down at the courthouse. It was nearly a year since Stannis had seen Sansa perform that song at Littlefinger’s event, and he had thought he was completely over the complex mixture of feelings that she had brought to the surface with her seductive touches and imploring looks.

“Oh?” Stannis muttered, trying to sound as if he were disinterested and only asking for more information to be polite. On the inside he suddenly felt everything he had felt when he had been in bed with her, holding her close and kissing her until the knock at the door told him his time was up. It was a writhing mess of protectiveness, guilty lust and something he did not dare name.

“Yes, he’s in her literature- Stannis, what’s wrong with you? Your hand!” Robert sounded very worried, so Stannis looked at his hand, feeling vaguely curious.

He had been holding a glass of lemon water, and now it was broken. A shard had cut his palm, and he was wet with water and blood. Now that he thought on it, he could feel the sting of the faint traces of lemon.

“I think there’s a first aid kit in the reception,” Stannis said, “I’ll go and get this fixed up.” His voice sounded far away and unreal, but he did as he said and went to the reception. A clucking hen of a woman called Lollys helped him clean up the wound and get it bandaged.

Robert did not bring the boyfriend up again that day.

Eventually Stannis found out that Sansa had found herself a nice, normal, _age appropriate_ boyfriend who was in her literature class. Apparently he was studious and quiet, wrote poetry and picked wildflowers for her, and did everything that was romantic and _nice._

When Stannis found out that his name was Willas Tyrell and that he was in fact the eldest son and heir of Mace Tyrell, he did more than break a glass. He may or may not have broken his fist instead.

“What did the wall do to you?” Davos asked when he saw the damage.

The next few months were very difficult for Stannis’ employees, and there was a definite spike in resignation letters for Davos to deal with. Stannis didn’t know what they were complaining about. He was not acting any more irritated or harsh than usual.

Davos felt differently, however, and one night he just stood up and walked out the door, turning around with his hand on the door handle to give Stannis a piece of his mind. “As your friend and your loyal employee, I feel like I have to say this to you. Please listen carefully. _Stop pining, and get on with your life._ ” He then slammed the door behind him and left Stannis to gape angrily at nothing in particular.

They hadn’t spoken for a few days after that, but Stannis took his advice to heart.

When Stannis ran into Melisandre at the courthouse one day and she propositioned him again, he was about to say no when he realised that this might be an opportunity to ‘get on with his life.’ He needed to replace his lingering memories of Sansa’s lips on his skin with new ones. Memories made with a consenting, grown woman _with long red hair…_

Melisandre was everything Stannis could have hoped for and more in bed, but when their dalliances became less frequent and finally stopped happening altogether, he still had dreams of Sansa. Thankfully the affair had been enough to help him in some small way, as his employees stopped sending in resignation letters, and things went back to being relatively normal.

Stannis did not go to Sansa’s graduation ceremony when the time came. It was more than three years after he had watched her sail off to Braavos, and the time had gone by unreasonably fast. Baelish had been imprisoned some months earlier after a lengthy trial and an appeal, and Stannis was finally sleeping through the night because of it. He had nearly worn himself out with worry over the final months of Littlefinger’s appeal, and Davos had taken to staying over at his house a few times a week to make sure he ate food and took naps. Stannis always growled at him that he didn’t need a nanny, but he was actually very grateful for Davos’ interference. Without it he would probably have ended up grey, gaunt and useless.

It had been worth it, however. Stannis had been there the day Baelish found out that he would not only be paying out the nose, but that he would also be spending a very _long_ time in prison, and the look on Littlefinger’s face had been priceless. Stannis was sure that up until that moment Baelish had been convinced he’d weasel his way out of jail time somehow. It had been immensely satisfying to see the way the light behind his eyes had seemed to _fade_ , how his chin had looked a lot weaker than usually, and how his Adam’s apple had bobbed up and down nervously. When Stannis saw it, he hoped Baelish was realising that he was going to _prison._ Baelish would no doubt use what was left of his money and influence to serve the easiest time possible, but he was not a particularly strong or physically intimidating man, and attractive enough in his way. Perhaps he would enjoy a taste of his own medicine where he was going.

Edmure Tully and Robert both went to Sansa’s graduation ceremony, but Stannis could not bear the thought of seeing Sansa happy with _Willas fucking Tyrell._ He did go to pick Sansa and Robert up at the airport, however. Robert insisted that Sansa was excited to see Stannis, and he also seemed to think it was Stannis’ duty as his brother to see to menial tasks that Robert could easily have hired a driver to accomplish.

It was more difficult than it usually was to hold on to his irritation with Robert as he stood among the other people who were waiting to welcome a loved one back to King’s Landing. Stannis had his arms crossed and he was grinding his teeth out of habit, but there was no real feeling behind his scowl. He was secretly very glad that Robert had bullied him into this. He wanted to see Sansa again, even if she had changed and would not be likely to cast him devious looks and try to flirt with him until he was red-faced and half hard. He shouldn’t want her to do those things, anyway. She had only acted that way because she had been abused by Baelish and influenced to think that her looks and body were only there to be used to please and titillate men.

It had been very wrong of him to enjoy the way she had latched onto him. Very, very wrong.

He stood, scowling and waiting, wondering what the future held for Sansa. Robert had said that she wanted to return to Winterfell and make sure her inheritance was in safe hands, but Stannis didn’t know if that was a task that would keep her busy for long. Would she be coming back to King’s Landing? Moving to Highgarden? _Getting married?_

There was definitely some feeling behind his scowl now. A very bitter, jealous feeling he felt ashamed of. It shouldn’t matter to him what she did as long as she was free and happy. It shouldn’t matter so much to him that she was with a _Tyrell._ As far as Stannis knew, Mace had never tried to bankrupt the Starks.

Anyway, he was supposed to be _over_ all of this, or so he had told himself. This recurrence of bothersome feelings and knots in his stomach was just a temporary response to the knowledge that he would be seeing her again. Once he actually saw her and heard her plans, the anticipation and the mystery would no longer be contributing factors, and everything would settle down. He would feel perfectly normal again. Hopefully.

Stannis saw Robert before he saw Sansa. It was impossible to miss Robert, because he was both very tall, very large, and very loud.

“Damnably good to be up and about! The seats on airplanes these days are just so small!”

Stannis rolled his eyes. He had it on good authority that Robert and Sansa had been sitting in first class seats, which meant that they would have had plenty of space.

When Robert moved out of the way, Stannis saw Sansa. As he was in a public place he couldn’t allow himself to widen his eyes and gape at her like a fish, even if that was what he most wanted to do. Instead he clenched his jaw tightly and _stared._ He had thought she had been beautiful at eighteen, and she certainly had been, but now she was _stunning._ Devastatingly so. She was dressed impeccably in a white blouse of some sort of light, shiny material, a black pencil skirt that was cinched at her waist, high heels that drew attention to her long legs, and a sapphire blue silk scarf around her neck. All in all, she did not look like she had just spent any time on a plane. Even her hair looked flawless; a thick, glossy sheet of copper that fell to her waist and swayed gently as she walked.

When she spotted him her face lit up in a bright smile. Her face looked the same, but different. Her smile looked more easy, her pretty blue eyes less haunted, and her bone structure seemed more noticeable under her ivory skin. Her high cheekbones were somehow more prominent, he thought as he stared, hungrily cataloguing every detail.

She reached him and immediately invaded his personal space, giving him a lingering kiss on the cheek. It put him off balance and he felt blood start rushing to his face in response to the gesture. That had not been the sort of peck one gave to a family member or a friend. It had been a lover’s kiss, complete with a warm, gentle touch on his arm and an intense meeting of the eyes when she had pulled back. The way she lingered so close to him allowed him an opportunity to really breathe in her scent, and he was surprised to note that she smelled just as she had on the night he had won her. Lemons and sugar; tart but sweet. Had she used that scent on purpose?

“It’s so good to see you again, Stannis,” she said softly, her voice more mature and infinitely more attractive for it. She still said his name as if she were caressing it with her tongue, putting him in mind of all the parts of his _body_ she had caressed with her tongue.

Red face, check. Half hard, _check._

“I hope you managed to park nearby, this trolley is a nightmare. We should have sent this stuff ahead along with the rest of Sansa’s belongings…” Robert grumbled, struggling with a trolley loaded with luggage. “You have lipstick on your face, by the way,” he added, clearly amused.

Stannis reached up to rub at his cheek, but stopped with his hand in the air. If he rubbed the mark off with his hand he would just have lipstick on his hand instead of on his cheek. Perhaps he should wait until he had access to tissues, warm water and soap. _Or perhaps he should just leave it on forever…_

Sansa was looking at him with interest, and he hurriedly put his hand back down, clearing his throat.

“I’m parked just outside,” he said awkwardly, turning to lead the way. Robert could deal with the nightmarish trolley on his own.

On the way to Robert’s villa at the outskirts of King’s Landing his brother blathered on about the graduation ceremony, the fantastic dinner party Sansa had thrown for him, Edmure and some of her friends from school, the sightseeing they’d done in Braavos, and the flight home. Robert hadn’t seen Daenerys, however, as she had been called away for an urgent business trip while Robert had been town, wasn’t it a shame? Stannis and Sansa pretended to listen, but really they were busy shooting each other covert looks. Stannis was driving, so he mostly looked at the road ahead, but whenever he looked in the rearview mirror he caught Sansa looking at him from the backseat, a small smile playing on her lips and a mischievous light in her eyes. 

His heart was beating much faster than is should.

At Robert’s house they all sat down for a drink and a tray of pastries. Robert insisted on Champagne, as it was a special occasion, but Stannis would only accept lemon water.

“To Sansa’s return to Westeros!” Robert toasted cheerfully, clinking his flute of Champagne with Sansa’s.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Stannis asked what Sansa’s plans were now that she was back in her home country. Did she intend to make some use of her degree?

“Well, I’m going to go to Winterfell for a while. I miss being in the North, and I need to make some decisions regarding the future of the estate,” Sansa said easily, sipping her Champagne and reaching for a sticky treat.

“That will take a few weeks at most,” Stannis said, pressing for more information. He really wanted to ask about her and Willas Tyrell, but he bit his tongue.

“I know, I haven’t really decided what to do next. You don’t know of a job opening, do you?” she jokingly asked. Sansa would never need to work unless she wanted to. The Stark fortune was not quite comparable to the fortune of the Baratheon family, and only a drop in the ocean compared with Tyrell’s wealth, but it was plenty for Sansa to live on without ever having to lift a finger.

“Stannis still has several job openings that need to be filled since half the company resigned two years ago,” Robert said with a smirk.

“What happened?” Sansa asked worriedly, widening her eyes. She had finished her lemon tart and somehow managed not to get any crumbs on her black skirt.

“You started da-” Robert began, but Stannis cut him off before he could finish. “Nothing. Nothing happened.” Stannis glared at his brother angrily. “Only a few people resigned, and it was for varied reasons that had nothing to do with anyone.”

“Well, let me know if any of those jobs would suit a graduate with no work experience, but a great singing voice,” Sansa said lightly, stroking Stannis’ arm affectionately.

The gesture made Stannis lose all control of his tongue. “What about Willas Tyrell? Hasn’t he graduated, too?” Stannis used the man’s full name since he couldn’t bring himself to refer to Willas as Sansa’s boyfriend.

“Oh, yes. He graduated a year ago. I think he’s working for his father in Highgarden. We exchange the occasional email,” she said casually, giving Stannis a shrewd look. She could obviously tell that Stannis was jealous, and that was why he had asked. Stannis didn’t really care that she knew, because from the sound of things, Willas was no longer Sansa’s boyfriend. This information gave him such an intense feeling of satisfaction that he almost wanted to lie down to enjoy the afterglow.

He wondered why no one had told him…

“So you - er - you broke up, then?” Stannis asked, ignoring the amused look on Robert’s face.

Robert still had no idea about how _physical_ Stannis’ relationship with Sansa had been, though he had eventually had to be told that he and Sansa ‘pretended’ to have sex due to the trial. Robert had spluttered a lot at first, but in the end he decided it was actually rather hilarious. He was less amused (two broken chairs and a smashed Ming vase) when he found out about how Baelish had examined Sansa after the fact, but had been convinced by the story that Sansa’s hymen had been broken when she was younger due to a gymnastics class. 

Robert thought that Stannis was overly protective of Sansa because he had become taken with her after aiding her rescue, and Robert had become convinced that he was right when Stannis had started acting like a ‘wounded bear’ after he found out about Sansa and Willas. Robert considered Stannis’ ‘crush’ to be the most amusing thing in the world and teased him about it at every opportunity. But that was probably only because Robert didn’t think there was anything real behind it.

“Yes, we weren’t right for each other in the end, but he’s a lovely person.”

“Got tired of having to wait for him to limp after you, eh?” Robert laughed, unconcerned with his politically incorrect ‘humour’. As a politician he really should know better, Stannis thought with an internal eyeroll.

Sansa glared at Robert for his comment and said, “that was unkind.”

“Oh, you know I don’t mean anything by it. I’m quite fond of gimpy, really!”

“Don’t call him that, it’s rude.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

Stannis was only half listening to them bicker. He was still stuck on the fact that Sansa was definitely not about to do anything like marry Willas Tyrell. It was the best thing he had heard in _years._

Robert excused himself to take a phone call a while later, leaving Stannis and Sansa alone in the lounge. Sansa immediately moved herself closer, leaning in to whisper in Stannis’ ear and play with his tie, paralysing him and giving him vivid flashbacks of what he still considered the most inappropriately erotic night of his life.

“You still have lipstick on your cheek.”

“I do?” he choked out intelligently.

“Mmhm, I quite like it,” she said flirtatiously at a more normal volume. She was still playing with his tie, but she didn’t have her lips next to his ear anymore.

“Why?” he blurted out, his brain on vacation now that Sansa’s scent was filling his nose again.

“Makes you mine, somehow,” she said sweetly, stroking his unmarked cheek with the back of her hand.

 _Seven hells._ Wasn’t she supposed to have learnt that she didn’t have to behave this way around men anymore?

Sansa must have heard or sensed something that Stannis hadn’t, because she had moved to put a respectable distance between them by the time Robert returned, an innocent, curious look on her face.

“Anything that we should concern ourselves with?” she asked lightly, referring to Robert’s phone call.

“No, just my assistant confirming the schedule for tomorrow,” Robert said, waving his hand in the air as if to shoo off a bothersome fly. “He did say he was going to send me some infernal memo to read, though. Would you mind if I sequester myself in my study for an hour or so before dinner?”

“Of course we don’t mind! Your work is so important,” Sansa said sweetly, answering for them both. Usually Stannis would have been annoyed at Robert’s work being complimented like that, but he really wouldn’t mind a chance to talk to Sansa some more in private, so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t make any pointed comments about Robert’s ‘work’.

“The cook says we’re in for a treat tonight, so don’t spoil your appetite with too many sweets while I’m gone!” Robert said by way of goodbye, leaving the room much quieter than it had been with him in it.

Sansa wasted no time moving herself closer again. “So, why did you never answer any of my emails?” Sansa asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

Nothing good would have come of maintaining a relationship with her while she was in Braavos. Davos had said to give her space to become her own person. It was better for her to cultivate her ties with Robert and Edmure. Less… complicated.

“I didn’t have the time,” Stannis said evasively, not meeting her eyes.

“That’s a very poor excuse.”

“I thought it would be best if you had a chance to put me and what we did out of your mind while you were at school.”

“You mean you wanted to put _me_ out of _your_ mind,” Sansa argued, clearly irritated.

“That would have been impossible,” he said before he could bite his tongue. He glanced at her quickly to gauge her reaction, and saw that she no longer looked irritated. She looked… flattered. Pleased.

They were silent for a little while, and Stannis felt Sansa’s eyes on him even as he stared at his hands instead of looking at her distractingly gorgeous face; her face that looked pleased because of something _he_ had said.

“You know, you were right about me, in a way,” Sansa said slowly, “I did need to learn to act and think in a more healthy way. I needed to learn to be my own person, and not depend on a man to tell me what to do, or where to go, or how to ‘bat my eyelashes’ or wear my hair to best please him.” She was touching his arm again as she spoke, her tone earnest and open.

“But you were wrong about something, too,” she added, “you never took advantage of me, Stannis, and you never could have.”

He looked up at that, meeting her sincere gaze and feeling absurdly hopeful. He had imagined that time and distance would help her to see what a colossal lech he had been to do what he had done with her, and allowing her to seduce him the way he had. It sounded as if she had gained the perspective he had hoped she would gain, but that despite everything she did not consider him to be a low, disgusting reprobate.

“I’m afraid I might have taken advantage of _you_ , though,” she said, blushing and looking down.

If she had taken advantage of him it could hardly count, as he had - to his shame - enjoyed every second of it. It would not do for her to feel guilty.

“Not at all,” he insisted hoarsely, hoping she would meet his eyes again and see the truth, even if she would then see his embarrassed flush, too. She did look, and she seemed to like what she saw. At least he thought she liked it, as her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled.

“Okay, so we agree we had some completely consensual and, in my opinion, rather hot - um - _time_ together?” Sansa said, giving him a crooked smile. She had raised her eyebrow too, as if to dare him to contradict her.

“I suppose,” Stannis said carefully, wondering where she was going with this, trying to squash the fierce feeling of pride that was making him want to straighten his back even further. (She thought it had been ‘hot’!)

“Great, because I really want to sneak into bed with you tonight,” she said, her smile widening into a wicked grin that made his heart start beating in his throat, and his cock twitch.

“And if I told you that I haven’t decided whether to sleep here or at my apartment in the city?” he said, his voice unrecognisably husky. Was he really going to go along with this?

“I suppose I might try to convince you to stay here…” Sansa trailed off, got up from the sofa and sat in his lap - sideways because of her restrictive skirt - and started to kiss him. She tasted like the sticky lemon tart she had been eating, and her lips were wonderfully soft. Having her tongue in his mouth felt thrilling and oddly comforting at the same time; the feel of her familiar even after the intervening years. He felt oddly as if a missing piece of himself had somehow been returned, and it felt _wonderful._

He kissed her back, tentatively stroking her tongue with his, and she started to moan into his mouth almost at once, her responsiveness making his intrigued arousal go to hardened desire in no time at all. She wriggled around on his lap, probably on purpose, making him break the kiss so he could gasp out a soft curse.

“We have to stop, Robert might come back,” he said weakly, when she started to kiss his neck eagerly. She had become better at this if that was even possible, and he jealously wondered if she had practised with Willas as he felt his insides liquidise due to her clever tongue.

“Promise to stay here tonight?” she asked teasingly, tugging on his tie in a way that made him want to yield to her every whim.

“I promise,” he ground out through clenched teeth, having snapped his jaw locked to help him resist the urge to start moving his hips in answer to Sansa’s tempting wriggles.

“Mm, I look forward to tonight, then,” she whispered coyly in his ear, and again the act of whispering brought his mind back to a time and place where he had been covered in massage oil and chocolate syrup. He groaned without really meaning to, closing his eyes and squeezing Sansa’s waist.

“I think I’ll go freshen up before dinner,” she said, standing up from his lap. It was difficult to let her go, but it would have been ridiculously needy of him to prevent her escape.

Stannis looked at the bulge at the front of his trousers and sighed. “I think I had better do that, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Drogo is more based on Jason Momoa than on Khal Drogo from the show/books. The way he tackled Daenerys and called her 'wifey' is something that Jason [actually did](http://winteriscoming.net/2012/03/21/interview-with-emilia-clarke/) the first time he met Emilia Clarke.
> 
> I hope you guys forgive me for not going into details regarding Littlefinger's trial. I'm trying to write a romance, not a court drama!


	12. Hidden depths

When Stannis undressed for bed that evening, in one of Robert’s spare bedrooms, he noticed a small lipstick mark on his shirt collar. It wasn’t completely _obvious_ that it was a lipstick mark, not being a clear outline of pursed lips or anything, but he suddenly understood all the strange, suspicious looks Robert had been shooting him over dinner, and the amused, mysterious smile Sansa had been wearing for most of the evening.

He didn’t really have to wonder why he hadn’t spotted it when he had been ‘freshening up’ before dinner. He had been busy taking care of the situation in his trousers, and then dealing with the more prominent lipstick mark on his cheek. Robert would surely have done more than give him suspicious looks if he had shown up to dinner still sporting that particular mark.

As he didn’t have his sleepwear with him, he slipped under the covers in just his underwear, wondering if Sansa would really be sneaking into bed with him this night. Perhaps she had just been teasing him? He should probably hope that she had been teasing him, and that she wouldn’t do something reckless like crawl into bed with him under the cover of darkness in his brother’s house, but he found himself desperately hoping for the opposite.

Stannis lay still under the covers, staring at the ceiling and feeling wide awake.

His relief at finding Sansa unattached had been telling, but kissing her again before dinner had proven how completely and helplessly under her spell he was. He wasn’t sure that he’d actually managed to shake it off while she had been in Braavos. It had just faded to the background, waiting for her to return and regain her uncanny control over him.

He wanted her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, and what was worse; he no longer felt nearly as guilty about it as he should.

 _’... so we agree we had some completely consensual and, in my opinion, rather hot - um -_ time _together?’_

Hearing her call their _time_ together completely consensual and ‘hot’ had been very gratifying, and it had done a little too much to quench his guilt. He could no longer tell himself that it would be taking advantage of her to give into her, that her seductive touches were coming from a problematic place, and that she couldn’t _really_ want him.

But he just didn’t understand why Sansa seemed interested in him. He was older than her, and not nearly as handsome as either Robert had been, or his brother Renly was. He barely knew what he was doing when it came to women, though his affair with Melisandre had helped him improve a little. 

Or had it been an improvement? He wasn’t sure. 

She had pushed him to discover a side of himself that he wasn’t sure he should really have discovered. Was it natural to enjoy taking a woman from behind with entirely that much force? Natural or not, Melisandre had seemed to like it, and he had guiltily enjoyed looking at her long hair and imagining that he was taking Sansa instead...

But he could never do that to Sansa. It was much too obscene. 

Unless she liked that sort of thing?

His cock twitched in response to the idea, and his imagination started to helpfully supply him with images of Sansa looking at him with that playful, flirtatious gleam in her eyes, getting on his bed on all fours, completely naked, and looking over her shoulder at him, asking him if he were going to just stand there or if he was going to take her until she managed to wake the entire neighbourhood?

Stannis groaned, both annoyed with his salacious imagination and impossibly aroused by the imagery. His cock was achingly hard, and he barely hesitated before sticking his hand under the waistband and wrapping his fist around the hard length, hissing in relief.

It was the second time in less than ten hours that he held himself like this, and he would have been appalled with his lack of restraint if he hadn’t been busy visualising the head of his cock stretching Sansa open, her wet, tight heat welcoming him and making him dizzy with pleasure, her voice moaning and saying something like -

“I see you’ve started without me.”

Stannis yanked his hand back as if his cock had suddenly caught fire, snapping his eyes open and going redder than ever before.

Sansa had not sounded disapproving at having found him… amusing himself, but she had sounded rather entertained and - pleased? He searched her face - even though he would rather have hidden his head under a pillow to cover his embarrassment - and found definite signs of her being rather happy. She was smiling, and her blue eyes were gazing at him the way she had looked at the last lemon tart some hours before.

“Need a hand?” she asked teasingly, undoing the light robe she was wearing and letting it slither to the floor, leaving her in just some lacy panties and a faint pink blush. Her breasts rendered him incapable of answering her playful question. They seemed a little fuller than he remembered them being, but they were still quite distractingly perky, and her nipples were just as perfect and just as tempting. She joined him on the bed, ignoring the way he was staring at her, and started to pull his underwear off. He had a vague notion that he should ask her if she was sure, and maybe ask her why on earth she wanted this, but he couldn’t speak. He just lifted himself slightly off the bed at the appropriate moment to make her task easier. It made her smile widen, and she hummed happily.

Once he was naked and she was on the bed next to him, it was her turn to stare. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, embarrassed and flattered all at once.

“You look like you should be one of those marble statues, except those statues tend not to have anything like this going on,” Sansa said, her fetching pink blush making her cheeks glow as she touched his cock with her fingertips. “Unless they’re fertility symbols or something,” she giggled, bending down to lick at him, a few experimental flicks of her tongue doing more for him than half an hour would have with his hand. He wasn’t sure if her comments had been meant to make fun of him, but he couldn’t make himself demand she explain herself. Not when she had her tongue on his cock.

He was having vivid flashbacks to the night before she left for Braavos. Gods, her mouth had made him lose all sense of reason and time. It had been so good that he hadn’t even been able to feel properly ashamed of himself in the moment when Davos had caught her in his bed. He’d felt ashamed, but not nearly as ashamed as he should have, based on the look Davos had given him.

Sansa was not settling in for the long haul down below, and was licking her way away from his cock, up his abdomen, his chest, to his neck and finally to his lips. She ended up half lying on him, with her knees on either side of his thighs, but unfortunately not pressing herself intimately against his jutting erection. They kissed for a while, tongues tangling together greedily, nose bumping against nose, their teeth clashing with little clicking noises in their haste to devour each other.

He decided to pull her into a more satisfying position, but was annoyed to find her still in her lace panties. They were _very_ flimsy and could easily be been pushed out of the way, but he decided to tear them off instead. He was careful to do it in a way that wouldn’t hurt her, but she still gasped when she heard the fabric give way, and moaned when he grabbed her arse and pulled her towards his groin. She was wet and getting wetter still as he rubbed his cock against her folds, and he closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the slippery sensation, groaning in appreciation. She was not hairless as she had been last time, but the hairs were sparse and did not get in the way of his enjoyment in the least.

It probably should not have surprised him how easy it was to slip inside of her, his cock sinking in with no barrier in the way, and plenty of natural lubrication, but it just happened so suddenly that he let out a startled breath. She felt hot and snug around him, a perfect fit. He thrust up involuntarily when she began to move, and then it was her turn to let out a startled little breath.

“Gods, I forgot how big you are…” she moaned, biting her lip and furrowing her brow slightly.

Her words made him thrust up again, his ego inflating so rapidly that it made his head spin.

“Oh, please, let me,” she gasped, pressing her weight down and obviously wanting him to still his hips, “you’ll like it, I promise. I’ve become rather adept at this position.” She gave him a cheeky grin, and began to undulate against him in a way that made him bite his tongue and squeeze his eyes shut.

What did she mean, though? Why would she be more adept at this position than another? Was it because of Tyrell’s disability?

The thought of her riding Willas Tyrell like this made him growl out loud, feelings of jealousy crashing over him like a tidal wave. He could not reprimand her for it, however. They had _both_ found different lovers in their time apart, and they had never made any promises to each other. He was being ridiculous and absurdly possessive.

He focused on what she was doing instead of thinking of things that made him want to declare war, and was forced to admit that she was indeed incredibly adept at this. She did _everything._ Sometimes pulling herself almost completely off to sink down on him completely, sometimes grinding against him fast and hard, or rolling her hips to take him into her gently and slowly, sometimes rising up until she was only letting the tip of his cock in; clenching around him and moving so that the head stimulated her in a way that she clearly enjoyed, but was sheer _torture_ for him. She tugged at his hands and placed his palms on her breasts, moaning in delight when he ran the rough pads of his thumbs over her stiff nipples, grinding herself perhaps a little harder against him as he did. She repeatedly brought him to the edge only to change her pace and deny him his release. By the fourth time she did this he was convinced that he was _dying_ and he let out a pitiful little whine.

“You know, we can switch positions if you like,” she whispered, pressing her breasts against his chest to bring her lips to his ear.

His fantasy of taking her from behind swam to the forefront of his mind, but he swatted it away.

“This is good,” he insisted, a note of desperation sneaking into his voice.

“Are you sure?” she asked, rising up to sit almost still, driving him mad with need.

“Yes, but could I -?” He moved his hips experimentally, asking without words if he could thrust up to meet her now. He watched her face hopefully, ignoring the way his face had warmed up.

“Hmm, yes. I think you’ve earned it,” she said mischievously, grinding herself against him and biting her lip.

He closed his eyes for a moment and moaned in relief, before opening them again to give her a determined look. He put his hands on her hips, tightening his hold, and started to move her up and down on his cock as he thrust up forcefully. Her breasts were a vision straight out of a dirty fantasy, and watching them bounce was a pleasure all on its own. It felt divine to pull her down on him as he thrust up, feeling her go along with him compliantly, gasping every time he buried himself to the hilt. Gratifyingly soon he felt her inner muscles start to flutter and pull at him, and it was all he needed. He started to come, seeing stars and calling Sansa’s name even as she moaned his.

Sansa stayed on top of him for a while as they both enjoyed their aftershocks, only rolling off when she apparently felt the need to go to the washroom. Stannis was in one of the bigger guest suites, so she did not have to go out into the hallway to find one. Stannis was left with a softening cock and a wet mess that would make the curly black hairs in the area rather crusty and disgusting if he didn’t do something about it. He rose up on one elbow, intending to fish a tissue out of the nightstand, but collapsed immediately, feeling too shaky to support himself. Perhaps he would just wait until Sansa finished, and then he would go and clean up properly with some water and soap.

Once they were both clean and back in bed, Stannis thought they would be going to sleep. But Sansa seemed to have other ideas, as she was fondling him again.

“What are you doing?” he asked, enjoying the way her nails were scratching lightly at the skin of his sac.

“Oh, did you think I was done with you?” she asked innocently, claiming his lips in a very enthusiastic kiss. Her tongue was insistent, and he had to bite her lip warningly to get her to stop and let him speak.

“I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said awkwardly, feeling a bit inadequate as he was still quite soft under her fingertips.

“You have hands, don’t you?” she said breezily, “and a tongue…”

Her words led to a rather pleasant half an hour of lazy exploration, his fingers doing more for her than they had the first time he had tried, now that he knew to push a few inside of her and curl them to hit the right spot. She didn’t start screaming into a pillow until he used his tongue, however, and it made him smile as he held her thighs apart, his thumbs digging into her soft skin.

Hearing her scream for him - even if the sound was muffled by the pillow she held over her face - and smelling the scent of her arousal, had him becoming hard and ready again, his cock eager for more. He wasn’t sure what to do about that, but he couldn’t exactly hide it from her as he was still naked. He had been kneeling on the floor, her thighs hanging off the edge of the bed, pushed wide apart by his hands so that he could have the access he wanted, but now he’d need to stand up and get into bed again. She was bound to notice.

He had just given her at least three orgasms, would she want any more ‘time’ with him?

He got up slowly, watching her face. She had removed the pillow she had been using to muffle her sounds of pleasure, but her eyes were closed. He put a knee on the mattress next to her, intending to climb into bed. She moaned and started to move to make room for him, pulling her lower body back onto the bed and opening her eyes to smile at him. Her eyes widened as she noticed his obvious interest in her.

“Maybe not so old, after all?” she teased, getting to her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply even though he had just had his mouth between her legs. She did not seem to mind the taste, and let her tongue tangle with his pleasantly as she pressed her body close to his, trapping his erection against her flat abdomen and letting him feel her soft breasts against his chest.

“How would you like me, this time?” she asked seductively, her eyes sparkling and indicating that she was excited by what he might say. “You can pick any position you like,” she added, “you’ve done _so_ well.”

He pressed his cock forwards, rubbing himself against her and groaning, helplessly aroused by her tempting, playful words.

The image of Sansa on all fours came back with a vengeance, and try as he might he couldn’t swat it away this time. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for it, either, so he ended up tongue-tied and red in the face, looking at her and wondering what to do.

Sansa had sat down on her heels, looking up at him as he was still kneeling. There was an amused, shrewd look in her eyes as she observed his no doubt conflicted expression.

“Are you afraid to ask for what you want?” she guessed after a while of him opening his mouth and then closing it again.

It felt embarrassing to admit to such cowardice, so he just froze; a deer caught in the headlights.

“How about I make suggestions, and when I get to something you want, you just go for it?” She smiled brightly, her pink flush and the unmistakable scent in the air betraying her apparently insatiable arousal.

He nodded, glad that she had thought of something like that. Surely she would not suggest anything she was not willing to participate in, after all?

She stood up and walked over to a bare stretch of wall, standing with her thighs slightly parted and the blush on her cheeks darkening. “Would like me up against the wall?” She watched him, pausing to see whether he would, in her words, ‘go for it’. He was tempted, but he held himself back because he wanted to see whether she would suggest what he desired the most.

She returned to the bed, pushing him until he was lying on his back, straddling him so that she was facing away from him. “This one is similar to what we did earlier, but still rather different…” she said, looking over her shoulder to gauge his reaction.

He hoped she wasn’t feeling rejected by his lacking response, so far, so he tried to make his desire for her obvious, staring at her intently with heat in his eyes.

She did not seem to feel rejected at all, however. If anything, she seemed to be getting more excited. She rolled over to lie on her back, parting her thighs and looking at him through lowered lashes. They were lying side by side, and she only had to turn her head to look at him. “Missionary?” she offered sweetly, “no?” she added after a few beats, getting up to her knees again.

“Hm, I think I know _exactly_ what you want,” she said said with a very playful smile. She pulled him up, making him get to his knees and face her. She kissed him briefly, then turned her back on him and got on all fours in front of him, making him groan out loud. It was much, _much_ more erotic to see her like this in reality than it had been to fantasise about it.

“I think you want to take me like you mean it,” she said breathlessly, parting her legs invitingly and throwing him a devious look over her shoulder, her hair collecting on one side of her face like a river of molten lava. Or perhaps it was just the heated haze clouding his vision that made it appear that way?

“ _Fuck,_ Sansa...” he ground out as he grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him, pushing into her without hesitation and watching his cock stretch her passage as it sank deeper and deeper, disappearing from his sight. Feeling her surround him as he pushed into her was ecstasy, _utter, perfect, ecstasy._ He clenched his jaw, and bared his teeth in a grimace that would probably appear to be pained to an outside observer. Instead he was feeling the sort of bliss that could not be described, and could only be eclipsed when he started to pull out again, watching in fascination as his cock was again revealed, inch by slow inch.

“Oh, _Gods!_ ” Sansa sobbed after he had repeated this slow process a few times, utterly entranced by the way her body swallowed him whole and the way she moaned when he dragged himself back out, leaving only the very tip of his cock inside of her. “Please! I’m sorry I did this to you earlier, just _please!_ ”

He was surprised at first to hear her beg, unaware that he had been torturing her, but her words had awoken something rather avaricious in him, and now he wanted to hear more of her pretty pleading. Steeling himself, he continued to go excruciatingly slowly, even slowing down a little when it made her make more of those desperate sobs.

She tried to push herself back towards him, getting down on her elbows to expose herself more thoroughly, but he put his hands on her arse and made her keep still. His new grip made him realise that he could spread her cheeks a little and give himself an even better view, so he did, and that bought him a few more minutes of willpower. It was intensely satisfying for him to have such a wonderful view, and his previous orgasm meant that he was in no hurry to come. Having her squirming and begging before him was an unexpectedly arousing perk. He had never known himself to enjoy withholding pleasure in such a manner, but when she had done it to him less than an hour ago, it had eventually given him an intensely powerful orgasm. He was just returning the favour, really.

He started to pick up the pace a little after Sansa started to threaten to never speak to him again if he didn’t stop tormenting her, feeling a little worried that she might go through with it.

“Yes, _please!_ Faster!” she begged as he steadily increased the speed of his thrusts. He was trying to restrain himself from going from straight from slow measured thrusts, to wild out of control pounding like his body was suggesting, gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into Sansa’s soft, firm flesh.

By the time he was going as fast as he dared, holding himself back from slamming into her with all the force he could muster by a _thread_ , Sansa was muffling her loud sounds of pleasure with a pillow again.

He was _so close_ and it was getting to be impossible to keep restraining himself, but he did not want to risk hurting her.

“Stannis, please! _Harder!_ ” Sansa had turned her head so that her cry for more would not be muffled by the pillow, and her words pulled the rug from underneath him, causing the thread to snap and his control to become a distant memory. He was fucking her now, as hard as he had ever fucked a woman, his breathing coming out in loud, panting gasps that his ears did not even hear because they were too busy enjoying the smacks of flesh meeting flesh.

Sansa started screaming into her pillow, her passage tightening around him until he had no choice but to come with a series of undignified grunts that he hoped she hadn’t heard.

When he pulled out of her and his seed was still dripping messily from his cock and leaking from her, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was sure the sheets were washable. He flopped down on his back, completely spent and pleasantly ensconced in afterglow. Sansa collapsed to her side, her thighs visibly trembling and glistening with their mingled fluids.

They said nothing for several minutes while their breathing evened out.

“I knew you had it in you,” she eventually mumbled, her voice a sleepy, intensely satisfied purr.

Stannis hadn’t known, and he wasn’t entirely sure if what he had ‘in him’ was a good thing. But he was too tired to think about it, and was asleep within seconds.


	13. A Date

Sansa woke up to the sound of a loud, angry voice.

“WHAT IN THE SEVEN BUGGERING HELLS IS GOING ON HERE?” Robert’s unmistakable voice was bellowing, making Sansa’s ears ring.

“Stop yelling,” Stannis replied in a gravelly rasp, sounding confused and sleepy.

“I WILL NOT STOP YELLING! WHY IS SANSA IN YOUR BED?”

Sansa felt the covers shift and the mattress move, and she could tell that Stannis was now sitting up beside her. She kept her eyes firmly closed, not wishing to involve herself in this argument right away.

“What does it look like, Robert?” Stannis growled, clearly irritated.

“WHY ARE YOU FUCKING MY GODDAUGHTER?” Robert wailed like a wounded beast, unable to control the volume of his voice.

“Keep it down, you’ll wake her,” Stannis grumbled.

This seemed to do the trick, as the next time Robert spoke he was no longer trying to bring the roof down on their heads.

“Tell me what the hell is going on, Stannis,” Robert demanded threateningly.

“Er…” Stannis hesitated, obviously at a loss. Sansa decided to rescue him.

“Good morning, Robert,” she said with a yawn, sitting up to. She was careful to take the covers with her, as she doubted that this situation could be improved by flashing her breasts at her godfather.

Robert’s face was _purple,_ but his angry expression was giving way to an awkward one now that she was awake and joining the conversation.

“Good morning,” he said automatically in response to her polite greeting, wincing slightly as he realised how ridiculous it sounded.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked curiously, careful to keep her tone mild.

“I was knocking on your door and asking whether you wanted pancakes or an omelette for breakfast, but you didn’t answer, so I opened the door a crack just to check on you, and you weren’t in bed! Your bed didn’t even look slept in!” Robert explained, his tone becoming more and more agitated as he went on, “so of course I came here to ask Stannis to help me look for you, but you know… here you are.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” she apologised softly, “but I’m okay. I’m exactly where I want to be.” She met Robert’s eyes, staring him down when he seemed about to object.

“Now, if you don’t mind, Stannis and I should get dressed before we come down for breakfast.”

Robert looked like he was getting ready to object, but Stannis moved to get out of bed, and Robert turned around and closed the door behind him rather than stick around and get an eyeful of his younger brother.

Sansa met Stannis’ eyes, observing his pained grimace and feeling rather guilty for having got caught in his bed _again._

“Oops.”

***

Sansa was sure that if she and Stannis had been living a hundred years in the past, Robert would have forced them to get married to protect her ‘honour’. As it was, he simply yelled at Stannis a lot, and cast her some sincerely baffled looks over breakfast.

She doubted he would look as baffled if he had known how many orgasms Stannis had given her last night. 

_Gods_ he had been amazing. She had suspected he could be coaxed into being rather brilliant, but she hadn’t expected him to step up as spectacularly as he had. Sansa had expected she would have a lot of fun seducing and teasing him; because he was exactly the type that needed teasing. The way he had been too adorably embarrassed to ask for the position he obviously wanted (men really were very predictable sometimes) had been a perfect example of how he desperately needed to be teased. It had been _delightful_ to suggest a few positions she knew he didn’t want quite as much first, and watch him struggle with himself. She had been surprised at his self control once she had given him what he wanted, however. She had expected him to take her hard and fast the way she needed him to, but instead he had turned the tables on her rather wickedly. She could see herself becoming quite addicted to sharing his bed if this was standard behaviour for him.

She wondered what he had thought of _her_ behaviour... 

She had stopped using the ‘skills’ Petyr had taught her for the most part while she had lived in Braavos. Daenerys had encouraged her to contact some of the people on Marya’s list, and join Daenerys whenever she went to meetings with her support group. It had been incredible to have professional help to work through her trauma, as well as support and understanding from other people who had lived through similar things. Her psychologist had helped her in a lot of ways, and Sansa had re-learnt how to communicate with people in a way that had no sexual undertones which helped her make many lovely friends who never expected her to do anything flirtatious or sexy while she was with them. More importantly, she gradually became aware of how adept at emotional manipulation she was, and took steps to stop trying to control people the way Petyr constantly had. It had been second nature to her for so long that it had been a much more difficult process than toning down her flirtatious side. She doubted she would have been able to do it without help from her therapist and the support from Daenerys and her group.

Her relationship with Willas had blossomed in a natural way after they met in Sansa’s literature class, their friendship deepening, feelings of great fondness growing between them, and finally they had progressed to sexual intimacy. Once she and Willas were involved in that way, she had occasionally allowed her inner ‘seductress’ a free rein, and had come to understand that in the correct setting, her skills were _very_ appreciated. She and Willas had been very happy together during his last year at school, but when he graduated, they had decided to end their relationship. They knew that they wanted different things in life, so it was an amicable parting of the ways, with promises to keep in touch and remain friends.

During her last year at University she had buried herself in work, determined to finish with good grades. She had received plenty of interest from boys, and even a bit of interest from girls, but she hadn’t made herself available to a new relationship, politely declining nearly all offers to meet up for coffee, drinks or dinner.

She had stopped sending Stannis emails after her first year at school, but she had thought of him frequently, wondering how he was doing. She asked after him when she spoke to Robert and had been satisfied to hear that he was plodding along as he usually did, working hard for the company and following up on Petyr’s case. Apparently he never missed a court session that was open to the public.

It had been strange when the news of her true identity and Petyr’s role in her disappearance had broken. She was glad that she had been in Braavos for it, as the news did not cause much of a sensation on her side of the Narrow Sea, but it had still changed things for her. After she had been deposed so that her testimony could be used in the case against Petyr, she had finally been able to go about with her head held high, and use her real name. Her friends had been confused and appalled to hear of what she had gone through, but it did not take them very long to adjust. Mostly it had been a relief to know that Petyr would have to answer for his crimes against her, and she made sure to interrogate Robert regularly about how the case was going. She had been forced to fly to Westeros a handful of times to testify, but largely due to Robert and Stannis’ efforts, she had not needed to do so in open court. Robert had helped her through it, and she had sensed Stannis’ presence, though she had never seen him on those occasions.

It felt good to know that Petyr was locked up and unable to hurt her or the other girls he had ‘employed’. Robert had told her that Stannis had made sure they had all been extracted as soon as Petyr had been arrested the first time, and she knew that they had all gone on to pursue an education or careers that actually allowed them some personal agency. Robert said that Stannis had insisted on setting up a fund to assist them in getting their new lives started, and the knowledge had just about melted Sansa’s heart. She had made sure to donate generously to the fund when she had gained control of the Stark estate.

Sansa wouldn’t say that she was in love with Stannis, but he had been her first, and he had rescued her from an awful situation, securing him a pretty lasting place in her heart. Perhaps it had not been the first time she had always dreamt of, but it had been thrilling in its own strange way. Therefore it hadn’t surprised her how excited she had become when Robert told her Stannis would be picking them up at the airport. She had made sure to dress to impress, even if it meant being dreadfully uncomfortable on the plane, and she had lost sleep over how she should behave around him now that she was more grown up.

One look at his clenched up posture had helped her figure that one out.

Stannis was simply a man who needed to be flirted with, and he brought out that part of her like no other person she had ever met. It was a part of her that had some questionable roots to be sure, but she had made peace with it, and _owned_ it. Her flirtatious smiles were no longer insincere mummery created for the purpose of allowing Petyr to make a fortune because of how well she employed them. Her eyelashes were no longer used as emotionally manipulative weapons. These things were simply a part of her now. A part she could bring to the forefront when she genuinely wanted to get someone’s _full_ attention.

Based on how Stannis had stared at her before she had even so much as given him a heated look, she had immediately known it would not be difficult to get his full attention. Still, flirting was fun, so she decided to turn on all the charm nonetheless. She was no cocktease, however, so she made sure that she was prepared to take things all the way to the finish line before she kissed him on the cheek at the airport. It wasn’t hard to make up her mind. (She still remembered his hard _everything_ … and his tongue.)

Stannis was a little difficult to read sometimes, but the jealousy in his voice when he spoke of Willas, and the look of relief on his face when she confirmed they were just friends these days, convinced her that Stannis was definitely still susceptible to her charms. It gave her the confidence that she needed in order to say all the things she had said to him… and sneak into his room...

It was unfortunate that Robert had found them in bed together as it was forcing them to actually explain what their ‘relationship’ was, and Sansa had been hoping to have a few more truly enjoyable nights with Stannis before he was forced to admit that he was much too serious a man to dally with silly young graduates. She had wanted a bit more time where they could have been undefined and secret.

“Please stop yelling at Stannis,” Sansa said after Robert spouted a rather hypocritical tirade about age gaps and propriety, his _own roof_ , and finishing up with comments about her being _Ned’s daughter_ as if that somehow made her untouchably holy.

Robert gave her yet another baffled look after she asked him to stop, but was blessedly quiet.

“It’s none of your business what we do behind closed doors, although I will agree to abstain from doing anything ‘under your roof’ in the future since you’re making such a fuss,” she said calmly, sipping her tea.

“Such a fuss…!” Robert spluttered, obviously unable to believe what he was hearing, “when my own brother decides to casually sleep with my goddaughter in _my house_ I feel I’m entitled to make a ‘fuss’!”

“Why?” she asked curiously, looking at him steadily and willing herself not to blush. It didn’t really work, but, oh well, she tried.

“Because… because it’s just _wrong!_ ” Robert insisted.

“We’re two consenting adults the last I checked, what’s so wrong about it?” Sansa continued to look at Robert curiously and sipping her tea as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She avoided Stannis’ eyes, because she wasn’t sure what he thought of all this and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She was aware of his ramrod straight posture and the tension rolling off him in waves, but she wasn’t sure if his tension was due to annoyance, anger, or something else entirely.

“It just is!” Robert exclaimed petulantly. “When did this start, anyway?” he added, a note of suspicion in his tone.

Sansa felt herself blush, and she glanced at Stannis quickly to gauge his reaction to Robert’s question. He had gone absolutely white and still, his lips a thin line. Clearly, he wouldn’t be helping her answer his brother.

“Um,” Sansa stalled, thinking frantically, “yesterday?” she tried, hoping Robert would buy it.

He looked doubtful, but didn’t call her on her poor lie.

“That was quick,” he just said, shooting Stannis a filthy look. “Couldn’t you at least take her to dinner first?”

Robert’s words gave Sansa an idea. “Would that make you feel better? If we went out together?” Sansa wondered, avoiding Stannis’ eyes very carefully as she was being terribly presumptuous. But she hoped Stannis would agree that going out on a date would not be terrible price to pay to end this argument.

Robert let his mouth hang open for a while, going very white and blinking at Sansa in amazement. “You and Stannis? In a relationship?” he asked at length, having recovered enough of his senses to speak.

“Yes. Would it make you feel better?” Sansa asked again, watching as Robert started to turn purple again.

“Well, at least if you were in a serious relationship I’d know he was treating you respectfully, and not like a convenient pair of tits!”

Sansa did look at Stannis at that, needing to share an incredulous look at Robert’s blatant hypocrisy.

What she saw in Stannis’ eyes took her breath away. It could not be any clearer that he would very much like to be in a relationship with her. He might as well have written it on a sign and held it in the air over his head.

‘One Stannis Baratheon: Available for serious, respectful, intensely sexually satisfying relationship with interested redheads named Sansa Stark.’

It was amazing to see how unguarded his gaze was, and how full of _need._

She barely took the time to think it over before the words came out of her mouth. “Would you consider going out with me, Stannis?”

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth and closed it, glancing at Robert and then back at her.

“I’d be honoured,” he said stiffly, making her want to giggle. She controlled herself, however, sending Stannis a small sincere smile instead. 

She turned to look at Robert. “There you go, we’re in a relationship. Can we finish our breakfast now?”

Robert groaned and hid his face in his hands.

***

Stannis wondered if the quality of the air somehow changed whenever Sansa came near his bed, or whether she accidentally flipped some sort of sign on her way into his rooms that indicated to other people that they should burst in and catch her with him.

Breakfast had been rather headache-inducing due to Robert’s lecturing and moaning, but Stannis could hardly remember what his brother had said now that Sansa had actually _asked him to go out with her._ He couldn’t quite believe it, and was half convinced that she had only asked him to make Robert shut up. But the way she had smiled at him, and looked at him with her beautiful, clear blue eyes…

She had seemed to like the sex. Even though he did… what he did. Perhaps that was enough for her to want to make things more defined? Or was he being blinded by his own lust for her?

It was no good. He had to talk to her and find out for sure.

Talking to her in private was easier said than done with Robert hovering over them like a concerned mother hen. Eventually Robert was forced to go into work, even though it was the weekend, and Stannis was able to join Sansa in the lounge as she made a list of things to do in King’s Landing before her trip to Winterfell.

“Did you mean it?” he asked without preamble, staring at her intently and trying to catch hints of what she might be thinking. So far she just looked pleased to see him, which was very gratifying and strange.

“Mean what?” she asked, looking genuinely puzzled. She put down the tablet with her checklist and gave him her full attention.

“Do you really want a relationship? With me?” he asked seriously, watching her eyes and searching them for what her true feeling were. She seemed to be surprised, for the most part.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to give it a try,” she said with a sweet smile, meeting his eyes fearlessly, “although I probably would not have asked quite yet without Robert’s interference.”

She patted the seat next to her on the sofa, and Stannis sat down beside her. They turned their bodies to face each other, and Sansa spoke again when he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I would not have minded a bit of a secret tryst before trying to define what we have,” she admitted, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “It’s dreadfully fun to sneak around with you. Shame we always seem to get caught.”

Stannis felt himself reddening at her words and how she was stroking his arm in that way she always did.

He cleared his throat, feeling he ought to say something. “Yes, we have been unfortunate,” he said awkwardly.

“Maybe we should make sure we’re alone the next time we end up in bed?” Sansa suggested with a small laugh.

“Next time?” he said, sounding embarrassingly hopeful and looking at her intently.

“Yes, after we go on a date, perhaps?” Sansa tilted her head to the side and brought the hand that had been stroking his arm up to his cheek. He leaned into her touch without really meaning to.

“That sounds… good,” he rasped, wondering if she could tell how much he wanted to kiss her.

She was wearing jeans today instead of a pretty skirt and he was glad of it when it allowed her climb over him to sit astride his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and they both moved their lips forward at the same time, meeting half way in a passionate kiss. With Sansa’s arms around his neck and her tongue curling around his, Stannis felt completely at home.

“Are you sure you want to go out with me?” she asked after she had made his trousers feel several sizes too small and his lips had become swollen from far too much kissing. (Not enough kissing?)

He put his hands in her back pockets and pulled her more firmly towards the bulge in his suit trousers. “Relatively certain, yes.”

Sansa giggled and let out a small moan. “No, I mean it! Have you considered the comments you’re going to get?”

“I doubt anyone is going to so much as raise an eyebrow at the fact that I’m with you, to be honest,” he sighed, thinking of all the other men in his age bracket with similar positions of power, prestige and wealth. Most of them were either married to someone ‘appropriate’ and messing around with girls of Sansa’s age on the side, or divorced (like him) and publicly going out with pretty women half their age. He’d fit right in. They’d be tripping all over themselves to invite him to all their cigar smoking, whiskey swilling gatherings and clap him on the back to congratulate him. The very thought of it made him grimace in annoyance.

“You don’t think the gossip rags are going to label you a cradle robber?” Sansa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sure they’re going to be more interested in writing about your clothes and attempting to convince other young girls that they are just the thing to wear to ensnare a wealthy businessman,” Stannis said sardonically, raising his eyes briefly to the ceiling in exasperation.

“I’ll have to make sure to wear something ridiculous, then.”

“I like what you normally wear.”

“So my clothes _have_ been working to ensnare you, then?”

“You’ve been in lingerie or naked for the most part since we were reacquainted,” he pointed out dryly.

Sansa laughed, her entire body shaking with mirth; a very enjoyable sensation for him as she was still on his lap. “I suppose that’s true, isn’t it?” she said when she had managed to control her amusement.

“I couldn’t care less about your clothes,” he told her seriously, looking into her eyes and willing her to believe him.

“I know,” she said with a soft smile, kissing him again.

***

“I’m sorry, I think I just hallucinated. Can you repeat that?” Davos said, smirking to indicate that he was just ribbing him, when Stannis explained he was taking off early on Friday afternoon because he had a date.

“You heard me,” Stannis grumbled, not really bothered by Davos’ teasing. He was too pleased with how events had transpired since Sansa returned to be bothered.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Davos asked, curious and a little amused.

Stannis felt himself redden slightly despite his best effort not to. He wasn’t sure if Davos would approve of Stannis taking Sansa out. What if Davos saw a reason that Stannis hadn’t spotted for it being a spectacularly bad idea?

“Er…” Stannis hesitated, stalling for time.

“Don’t remember her name?” Davos teased, his eyes full of good-natured humour.

“Of course I remember her name. I’m not an imbecile,” Stannis snapped, annoyed with himself for not being able to spit it out and face whatever comments Davos would make.

“Well, who is it, then?” Davos asked, raising his eyebrows in an expression of mild surprise at Stannis’ outburst.

Stannis felt as if his tongue was suddenly very dry and large in his mouth, and his palms were becoming uncomfortably clammy. He stared at his best friend and panicked at the idea of what he might say. It was cowardice, and nothing else. Stannis knew that he and Sansa had nothing to hide, and that there was nothing wrong with taking her out at this point. He just didn’t want Davos to judge him somehow unworthy.

“You’re making me nervous!” Davos exclaimed after a long pregnant pause. “It’s not Marya, is it?” he joked, trying to alleviate the tension.

Stannis glared at Davos and cleared his throat. “No, of course not. Don’t be stupid.”

“Cersei?” Davos guessed with a grin, obviously warming up to his silly game. “Oh, I know! Margaery Tyrell!”

“It’s Sansa,” Stannis bit out through clenched teeth, bracing himself.

Davos gaped at him, eyes wide and eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Stannis started grinding his teeth and crossed his arms defensively, preparing himself for battle.

Schooling his features into a look of puzzled interest, Davos let out a breath. “Seriously?”

Stannis just nodded, daring Davos to comment.

“Well. I mean… well. That didn’t take very long. Didn’t she just come back three days ago?” Davos said, looking like he was trying very hard to contain himself. The amused glint in his eye was coming back.

“If you’re going to say something about it, spit it out,” Stannis barked, his patience completely eroded.

“I hope you two have a nice time,” Davos said, giving Stannis a small sincere smile.

It was Stannis’ turn to look baffled. “That’s it?” he asked suspiciously. He had expected at least a small talking to, a reminder to treat her gently and not rush into anything, or _something._

“You’re both adults,” Davos said with a shrug.

“We are?” Stannis blurted before hastily catching himself. “I mean, yes. We are.” He managed to come off as decisive that time around.

Davos just smiled and shook his head. “So, where are you taking her?”

***

Stannis and Sansa didn’t really cause the scene that Stannis had been half dreading when they showed up at the Crimson Room in King’s Landing. Sansa was treated to a lot of appreciative looks which made Stannis grind his teeth and slip an arm around her waist possessively, but no one seemed to even blink at the fact that they were out together.

“I don’t think they realise we’re on a date,” Sansa whispered when Stannis expressed his surprise at the lack of interest in them. Not that he _minded._ He was very relieved that they wouldn’t have to push through a throng of photographers when they left.

Stannis supposed Sansa was right. It was a known fact that Sansa was connected to the Baratheon family, so perhaps people simply assumed they were out for platonic reasons. He couldn’t blame them. Who would ever assume that Sansa would ever consider him as a romantic possibility? They had walked past a mirror to get to their current seats, and Stannis had to admit that he would never have guessed that someone as gorgeous as Sansa could possibly be involved with someone like him.

She truly looked resplendent in a midnight blue cocktail dress that hugged her every curve, and she had done something with her hair and her make-up that made her look like the women on the covers of magazines. Her skin seemed to glow in some sort of unearthly way, and she was constantly _smiling_ at him. Her smile made her even more beautiful if that was even possible, and his throat had been dry since the moment he saw her, his cock twitching every time she looked at him through lowered lashes -- which was often.

He, on the other hand, was wearing one of his nicer suits, but even then he still looked like a funeral director, not a romantic lead. He scowled at his plate at the thought.

“Do you think we should give them something to gossip about?” Sansa asked with a devious little smile, and he suddenly felt her foot stroking his leg. She seemed to have slipped out of her terrifying high-heeled shoe as all he could feel was the soft sole of her stockinged foot. Stannis was very grateful for the long table cloth.

He cleared his throat and took a gulp of water, feeling nervous and aroused.

“Er, what - what do you mean?” he asked hesitantly, trying to keep outwardly calm despite Sansa’s questing foot.

“I could lean across the table and kiss you,” she suggested playfully, “or I could pretend to drop something and hide under the table for a while…”

She giggled at the horrified expression that must have appeared on his face.

“I’m only kidding,” she said with a dazzling smile, retracting her foot and leaving him tingling where it had been touching his leg. “Do you think they have any vegan options?” she asked, turning her attention to the menu.

As it turned out, Sansa didn’t quite consider herself a vegan, but her stay with Daenerys had given her an appreciation for vegan food. Stannis couldn’t quite comprehend it, feeling that a meal without meat - or seafood at least - could not truly be called a meal.

They talked about food, Daenerys, Braavos, Sansa’s University classes, her plans for Winterfell, Stannis’ business, and even a little bit about Littlefinger’s trial as they ate. Stannis thought it was amazing how easy it was to talk to Sansa. Usually when he talked to women there were more awkward silences.

“Apparently Clegane was so taken with you, that he never told Baelish that you had tricked him into drinking something that made him fall asleep. He allowed Baelish to assume that he had drunk half a bottle of whiskey and took the blame for your escape,” Stannis explained after the subject of the Hound came up.

“Really? I must send him a gift!” Sansa exclaimed, her eyes going impossibly wide.

“Robert has attempted to offer him a generous retirement fund, but Mr. Clegane insists that Robert has already done more than enough by paying Bronn to orchestrate Gregor Clegane’s hospitalisation. Did you know that Gregor’s spine got severed? He’s been stuck in a wheelchair ever since. Sandor was thrilled.”

“They hate each other, don’t they?” Sansa said softly, an unreadable expression on her face.

Stannis lifted his shoulders briefly, he didn’t really know.

When dessert came, Sansa seemed amused by the strawberries that decorated her piece of cake. She was smirking, and looking at him meaningfully, but he didn’t quite get it until she picked one up with her fingers - getting a little chocolate icing on her hand - and offered it to him. The memory hit him like a ton of bricks, and his mouth fell open in surprise. She used the opportunity to push the berry in between his lips, and he bit into it on autopilot, visions of Sansa in bridal lingerie, feeding him strawberries and licking his chin, swimming in front of his mind’s eye. 

With the taste of the strawberry still fresh on his tongue he became hopelessly hard, his erection straining the material of his suit trousers uncomfortably. He felt a little ashamed of himself for being so aroused by those problematic memories, but it was difficult to concentrate on that when Sansa brought a strawberry against her own lips rather suggestively. His heart was beating madly against his ribcage by the time she was done, and he was sure that he was starting to resemble a drooling halfwit.

“I think we should ask for the check,” Sansa suggested in a low, seductive voice, “people have definitely started to notice that we’re not _platonic._ If we leave soon we should still be able to avoid the photographers.”

Stannis nodded in a trance, and then blinked several times and took a deep breath to calm himself. He’d need to focus on something disgusting to get his trouser situation under control again. As they waited for the check he thought about the food Baelish was no doubt enjoying in prison, and that did the job quickly enough.

The photographers responded more quickly than Sansa had expected, but there were only a handful, so it was not difficult to pass them by and ignore them as they left the restaurant.

Once in Stannis’ car, he asked Sansa what she wanted to do. He hadn’t really planned anything specific after their dinner, although he thought he might suggest a walk along the seafront if she didn’t have anything in mind.

“I’d love to see your apartment,” Sansa said, a flirtatious tone in her voice.

Stannis hoped that she meant what he thought she meant, swallowed and nodded once, started the car and pulled into the late evening traffic.

They didn’t say much on the way, but Sansa started to let her fingers walk up and down his thigh rather distractingly after a while, progressing to firm touches, and finally almost fondling places that were responding a little too eagerly - _embarrassingly_ \- to her touch. He was relieved for a chance to collect himself when he parked in the underground garage of the high rise where his apartment was located, even though he felt a little bereft at the loss of her touch when he exited the car.

***

Sansa thought it was really such fun to spend time with Stannis in such a carefree, _open_ way. No sneaking around or feeling guilty and mixed up. It was easy to talk to him, easy to fluster him and easy to care about him. Easy for _her_ , at least.

She started to undo the knot in Stannis’ tie in the elevator on the way up to his penthouse, enjoying the way he flushed red and glanced at the camera in the corner self-consciously. Sansa thought it was rather telling that despite his obvious embarrassment, he didn’t try to stop her. Judging by the bulge in his trousers she probably could have gotten away with a lot more than undoing his tie in the elevator, but she decided to be a _bit_ of lady and restrain herself.

As soon as they were inside Stannis’ apartment she wanted to abandon all restraint, but she got distracted by the lovely interior of the place, and ended up walking around and examining the designer furniture with interest. It didn’t seem like a ‘Stannis’ sort of place at all!

“I don’t know. Renly took care of it. He went through a phase where he wanted to be an interior decorator…” Stannis explained briefly, looking rather irritated that she was asking him questions about furniture designers.

Sansa thought it was incredibly sweet that Stannis had allowed his brother to decorate for him in order to support his interests, and she decided to make Stannis sit down on the gorgeous, dark brown Chesterfield sofa, taking a seat on his lap herself. She loved draping herself all over Stannis for a variety of reasons. Chief among them was the way it allowed her to be so close to him: close enough to feel his warmth, the firm musculature of his body, and breathe in his addictive, masculine scent with every inhalation. But she also liked it because of the way his breathing sped up when she did it, and the way he seemed to tense up and relax all at once.

“I think Renly has a gift,” she whispered in his ear, pulling on his tie until it slid free of his shirt collar. She dropped it on the floor carelessly and started to unbutton the shirt, determined to get better access to his neck.

“What he had was an unlimited budget. I had no idea how much it was possible to spend on furniture,” Stannis grumbled.

“Still, he has good taste. Even if you buy expensive things it’s still possible to be tacky. Your brother avoided that,” Sansa pointed out, letting her fingers explore Stannis’ newly exposed throat. She unbuttoned a few more buttons and stroked the dark chest hairs that came into view, liking the way Stannis’ breath hitched and how he tightened his tentative hold on her waist. She liked it when he touched her a little more aggressively, so she made a small sound of approval, wriggling around in his lap happily in order to encourage him. She was sitting sideways because she was in a dress, but the bulge she could feel was making her want to straddle him. Perhaps that would allow her to ease the ache that had been building between her thighs ever since he allowed her to feed him that strawberry at the restaurant...

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t pass your compliments on to him, he’s got a big enough head already,” Stannis said, his voice a little strained. She guessed it was because of her wriggling, so she redoubled her efforts.

“You’re all egomaniacs,” Sansa giggled, referring to the Baratheon brothers.

“Some of us have reason to be,” Stannis quipped, using his grip on her waist to pull her towards him, grinding their bodies together insistently and kissing her passionately, his tongue demanding entry and curling around hers deliciously. She really needed to straddle him _right now._

Sansa pushed his hands away and got to her feet. She kicked her heels off and with a flirtatious smile and an involuntary blush, she stripped her dress off. (The zipper was on the side, so it was easy enough to manage on her own.) She stepped out of the pool of fabric at her feet and risked a glance at Stannis’ face.

Sansa smiled when she saw that his eyes were wide and glazed over, and his lips were parted. Clearly he liked the black satin lingerie. It was her favourite ‘fancy’ set, as the bra was both comfortable and somehow able to mould and shape her breasts until her cleavage was absolutely _perfect._ Stannis had been a gentleman throughout the night, and hadn’t been looking at her cleavage while she had been in her dress, but now he seemed unable to look away. Sansa decided to let him have a closer look, and placed one knee on either side of his thighs, and one hand on each of his shoulders to steady herself, bringing her breasts right up to his face. She heard his sharp intake of breath and smiled to herself.

Stannis tentatively placed his hands on her hips and leaned back in order to look at her, obviously seeking permission for something.

“Whatever it is that you want to do right now, you’re allowed,” she told him with a flirtatious smile. She imagined he wanted to bury his face in her cleavage, or kiss it. The idea of him doing something like that was causing heat to rush through her and gather between her thighs, the thrill of anticipation filling her with excitement.

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and he licked his lips nervously. He moved his head forwards very slowly, almost hesitantly, but eventually his lips touched the swell of her breast, first one and then the other. They were tender, careful kisses and even though he had recently shaved, his face felt rough and scratchy against her sensitive skin. She moaned at the contact, and got louder when his kisses became more ardent, his tongue sending little shockwaves through her. Before she knew what had happened he had unclasped her bra and taken a nipple into his hot mouth, clever fingers teasing the other into a hardened peak and then stroking it much too lightly. She wanted to sit down now and feel his erection pressing against her where she needed the relief, but if she pressed herself against him she would be taking her breast away from his mouth, and that would be _awful._

She mewled pathetically and moved one of her hands down between her legs, pressing her fingers against herself wantonly without really caring what he would think of her.

He stopped licking her nipple, and she whined at him like a kicked puppy.

“Patience. I’ll take care of you soon,” he admonished, pulling her hand away from between her legs. She looked into his eyes and saw the aroused, dark amusement lurking there, and it caused a fresh wave of heat and moisture to surge forth at her core.

He collected her wrists in a loose one-handed hold behind her back, and went back to licking and sucking on her nipples, using his free hand to tease the one his mouth was not busy with. With her thighs spread and her hands out of commission, there was nothing she could do to ease the powerful ache that was calling for touch with increasing desperation. All she could do was moan and try to be satisfied with the delicious sensations he was eliciting with his tongue and his fingers. The problem was that his touch at her nipples was just making her wetter and wetter, and causing her to hunger urgently for something to fill her. It was utterly maddening!

“Please, Stannis! I need you, I need you, _please_ ,” she whimpered after an eternity, abandoning all thoughts of dignity. The only thoughts she had room for revolved around his hard cock filling her up and making her feel _so good._

“All right, put your hands on my shoulders and keep them there,” he said, his voice low and husky. She hurried to comply, and hoped he would use the hand he had been using to trap her wrists to do something more useful. She gasped in surprise and relief at his first gentle touch between her legs. He pulled her panties down until they were too stretched between her spread thighs to go any further. When he finally touched her folds directly, she was so worked up that it felt positively electric, and she let out a long, drawn out and lusty moan.

“You’re very wet, aren’t you?” Stannis rasped, sounding very aroused but with that hint of that dark amusement she had seen in his eyes.

“Mmhm,” she managed, trying to move her hips to bring herself into firmer contact with his fingers.

“Hold still,” he chided her, using the hand that had been at her breast to swat her bottom very gently. She couldn’t help it -- she gasped and felt her skin erupt into goosebumps, a veritable flood of moisture surging forth and coating Stannis’ fingers. _Did she like being spanked?_ The idea had never appealed to her before, but maybe if it was just gentle like that…? She could feel herself blushing furiously at the way her body had reacted, and she looked at Stannis and worried at her bottom lip nervously. Had he noticed?

He was giving her a searching look, rubbing her very pleasantly between her soft folds, but not nearly firmly and rhythmically enough. Raising his eyebrow slightly, he gave her bottom another gentle tap while pushing two fingers inside of her.

She moaned urgently without even making up her mind to do so, and felt herself blush even more deeply. She was embarrassed, but she couldn’t really muster the energy to care because his fingers felt amazing, and she just wanted _more._

He continued to finger her slowly for a while, occasionally swatting her bottom lightly and looking rather aroused at the way she moaned each time. She couldn’t believe how hot he was making her feel, and she couldn’t believe how intensely aware of his fingers she was and how much each tap at her bottom made her clench around them.

“Do you have any idea how hungrily you’re pulling at my fingers?” he asked huskily, looking up at her with smouldering eyes that looked more black than dark blue.

She bit her lip again and shook her head slowly, her cheeks felt like they were burning up, but _Gods,_ she had never been so aroused!

He curled his fingers a few times, making her gasp his name and tremble slightly, but then he pulled them out, leaving her achingly empty again. She whimpered and mewled unhappily, but Stannis shushed her.

“Look how wet you are,” he said, showing her his glistening fingers, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Stannis, please!” she said, starting to feel incoherent with need.

He reached for one of her hands, taking it off his shoulder and steering it to her soaking entrance, telling her without words that he wanted her to finger herself. It felt a little dirty to do that in front of him, but she was just happy to be able to get some form of relief, so she didn’t even hesitate before plunging two fingers inside and moving them eagerly to pleasure herself.

Stannis smacked her smartly on the bottom, making her gasp and feel as her inner muscles clenched around her fingers. “None of that, you’re just supposed to feel how hungry you are for me,” he chastised her heatedly.

Her breasts were heaving due to the deep, flustered breaths she was taking, but she managed to pull her fingers out.

“Did you feel it?” he asked huskily, looking up at her with his dark eyes.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, out of breath and aroused beyond all reason.

“I think I should show you my bedroom, now,” Stannis said thoughtfully, his hands caressing her backside idly.

She nodded frantically, and he helped her get up. It was a little difficult due to her panties, but moving them up a bit made it possible for her to stumble to her feet without being trapped by the satin material. She let them fall to the floor as soon as she was standing. Stannis - still fully dressed aside from his tie and a few unbuttoned shirt buttons - led the way to his bedroom, and Sansa followed, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. 

She had been feeling wrong-footed ever since he took charge of the situation, and she wondered why she hadn’t glimpsed this side of him their first night together. She had seen a little of it when they had slept together at Robert’s house, but that had been after they’d already had sex at least once! Was he just becoming more comfortable around her? Quicker out of his shell?

It was strange, but exciting, and she sort of liked it when she didn’t quite know where she had him. Was he the Stannis that needed to be teased into action, or was he the man who liked to take his time and order her around?

The bedroom was just as sleek, stylish and _masculine_ as the living room, dark colours and designer furniture dominating the room. She barely had time to take it in before Stannis had pulled the bedspread off the bed and nudged her until she made herself comfortable on it. She watched as he got undressed, and was pleased to note that he was a lot less collected now. His hands shook a little as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt buttons, and he nearly lost his balance when he took off his shoes and his socks. She didn’t look away when he was down to his underwear, and gazed hungrily at him as he pushed the cotton down his thighs, releasing his cock. She squeezed her thighs together tightly at the sight, hopelessly eager for the feel of it inside her. He really had a wonderfully sized cock, Sansa thought; its girth nice and thick and its length _just right_. She let out an involuntary moan, impatient and needy.

Instead of tormenting her further, Stannis crawled on top of her, his breaths coming out unevenly and fast. She spread her thighs hopefully and was rewarded with the feeling of the big, blunt, rounded head of his cock nudging her entrance. She moaned gratefully, raking her nails lightly down his shoulder blades, getting him to groan with pleasure, too.

He pushed forward, the head of his cock slipping inside and stretching her decadently, making her gasp with pleasure. He buried himself to the hilt almost immediately with a perfect thrust, getting her to moan his name in ecstasy. The sensation of being filled after being _empty_ and aching for so long was like nothing else. 

Utter, perfect _bliss_.

“Oh, you feel _amazing..._ ” she sighed as he began to move, her toes curling with the pleasure of it. She opened her eyes and looked at his face when he didn’t answer, and was satisfied to see that he looked completely gone. His eyes were squeezed shut, a crease between his eyebrows indicated his fierce concentration, and his lips were slightly parted with what she certainly hoped was pleasure.

She wrapped her legs around him to get the angle of her hips right, holding him to her tightly whenever he was buried as deep as he would go. She loved the feeling of him deep within, and she loved how he sometimes kissed her hungrily as she held him fast, but he would never stay put for very long. Eventually he seemed to tire of the constant pauses and pushed her legs up and apart to give himself better access. She allowed it, even thought it was a little undignified to have her legs in the air like that, because the new angle was _sinful_ , and she was quite ready for a faster, harder pace.

She didn’t know how he did it, but he was managing a quick, _perfectly_ steady pace that was slowly but surely driving her completely insane with pleasure. She wanted him to go faster, but at the same time she didn’t, and the pressure inside of her just kept building and building, coiling and sending tendrils of heat through her entire body, until suddenly it was as if a switch was flipped and she was crying out, clenching around him as he continued to thrust at the same steady pace, coming all over his cock as hard as she ever had.

“Stannis please, _faster!_ ” she gasped out desperately, trying to move her hips in a way that would encourage him to do as she begged. When he sped up, thrusting ruthlessly now, she sobbed with pleasure, riding out her continuous orgasm - feeling it all the way up to her abdomen and her spine - and clinging to Stannis’ back weakly. She felt as if her body was going limp with a complete overload of sensation.

She was barely aware of Stannis breathing hard - panting almost - as his thrusts started to become a lot less steady and a lot more forceful. But she definitely noticed when he moaned her name, snapping his hips forward a few last times, obviously reaching his own climax in a big way.

He stayed buried inside her for a little while as they both caught their breath, but rolled off her all too soon despite her mewls of protest, collapsing onto his back with a sigh. She felt bereft without him inside of her, and moved to press herself against him, trapping one of his thighs between hers. She liked doing that as it was both soothing and satisfying.

Stannis moved an arm around her, holding her close and making her feel utterly welcome and wanted against his chest -- cherished, even. She basked in the warm glow that was spreading through her body like honey that had been left in the sun, and hoped he was feeling the same.

They were silent for a while, just holding each other and breathing, but eventually Sansa spoke.

“Let’s do that again,” she said happily, rocking her hips slightly and creating a bit of enjoyable friction for herself.

“Are you insatiable?” Stannis grumbled, but there was no actual annoyance in his tone.

“Aren’t you?” she asked innocently, rising up on one elbow in order to kiss him deeply.

They ended up being ‘insatiable’ three more times that night, and slept until noon to make up for it. Stannis was appalled when he realised what time it was, and Sansa had to make him a strong cup of tea and promise that he’d be able to get lots of work done the next day instead. Even if the next day was Sunday and he really should just be relaxing and enjoying his new relationship.

At the mention of the word ‘relationship’ Stannis seemed to forget all his concerns, and they ended up right back in bed, much to Sansa’s delight.

Stannis did not end up getting any work done on Sunday as Sansa had promised, but he drew that line at calling in sick on Monday like Sansa suggested. (“Say you’re ‘bedridden’!”)

He did, however, stop working late every day.


	14. A Dinner and a Show

Six years after Stannis won Sansa at an auction, Sansa had founded a charitable organisation around the fund Stannis had started to help the unfortunate women in Littlefinger’s employ. Her organisation focused on helping women from the sex industry to make new lives for themselves if they wished, or simply providing them with assistance and legal help if they needed it in order to work more safely. Sansa’s own (slightly edited) story had been made public when she had started the organisation, explaining her passion for helping women in that particular situation.

When it became known that it had been Stannis who recognised her and rescued her from becoming one of ‘Littlefinger’s Girls’, their relationship had become the focus of a highly romanticised media sensation. (Of course it was not made public that Stannis had actually had sex with her that night, as the media might not have found that to be particularly romantic.) Stannis and Sansa had been annoyed and amused by this, as the media had mostly left them alone up until that point -- aside from the initial hullabaloo when they got together. All the attention helped get her organisation off the ground, however, so Sansa had not been able to complain too much.

Robert had eventually adjusted to the fact that they were together, although he would complain loudly whenever he caught them kissing, and go on about his eyes melting or some such nonsense. She suspected Robert just didn’t like playing second fiddle to his younger brother, a theory that was supported by the fact that he was less likely to make an issue of her relationship with Stannis if she made sure to give Robert plenty of attention whenever the three of them were in the same room for some reason or other. (She always made it up to Stannis when they were back to being alone, so he never complained.)

Shireen had taken to Sansa immediately, which had come as a huge relief to Sansa. They would never really have a mother-daughter relationship, but they had become good friends, and bonded over a mutual love of history and literature. They also had Stannis in common, and were both very invested in taking care of him, sharing many eyerolls over his insistence on working himself to death, and constantly plotting ways to get him away from his reports and his computer when he was supposed to be relaxing.

Sansa still used every opportunity to flirt with and unbalance Stannis, as he only ever seemed to loosen up for long enough to make her knees weak and her thighs tremble, before going right back to being hopelessly clenched and tense. Sometimes Sansa wondered if he did it on purpose to get her to tease him, but that couldn’t be it… could it?

***

Stannis sighed and scowled at the flute of Champagne someone had foisted on him. He wouldn’t drink any of it, but he supposed he could hold it and wave it about when the imbeciles on the stage made their toasts. Sansa had insisted he attend this charity dinner with her, as she said it was an important cause, and that she needed to be seen there. Having her beside him was the only thing that was keeping him sane through the boring speeches.

His bowtie was much too tight around his neck, and Sansa had insisted he wear his dinner jacket tailored to ‘show off his waist’ so it was much less comfortable than his last dinner jacket, which had looked _exactly the same._ Sansa disagreed, however, and he supposed the slight discomfort was worth the way she had looked at him when she had seen him in it. Even now she couldn’t seem to keep from touching him, which was rather gratifying and pleasant. He gave her a sharp look when she started inching her hand from his knee and up his thigh, and she widened her eyes innocently in return. The pressure of her hand disappeared, and he felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. He wouldn’t have wanted her hand to go much further, but he had liked feeling her touch.

He had barely finished the thought when her touch returned. This time she was nudging one of his legs with hers most distractingly. He leveled a glare at her, but she was pretending to be engrossed in what the old fart on the stage was droning on about. She twined her leg around his, putting him in mind of other situations where she tended to wrap her legs around him, and causing his blood to heat up and rush to an inconvenient location.

Great. Now he’d be forced to stay seated until _that_ went away.

Both Sansa’s hands were resting demurely in her lap, and using the table for cover he seized one, squeezing it a little warningly. She looked at him with a polite, curious expression, but there was a devious light in her eyes that told him that she was definitely teasing him on purpose.

He leant towards her, bringing his lips right up to her ear to whisper something he most definitely did not want overheard.

“If you don’t stop that right this instant, _minx_ , I will make you watch as I bring myself off when we get home, and not so much as _touch_ you. And don’t think you’ll be allowed to use any of your little toys, either.”

It was the only threat that ever worked to make her stop, as she hated it when he left her wanting. He didn’t like to use this threat, as he much preferred a mutually pleasurable experience in bed, but they were in a _public place._ He couldn’t let her embarrass him here.

Sansa tentatively unwound her leg from around his, blushing bright pink. He was very glad she chose to do that, as he very much wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t walk when they got home. After all, she looked good enough to _eat_ in her clingy, cream-coloured dress. Perhaps he would do that, too…

Robert shot him an annoyed look from across the table, obviously irritated by the whispering and the blushing. Stannis straightened up in his seat and raised an eyebrow at his brother, daring him to comment. Robert frowned and took a large sip of Champagne, but looked towards the stage, pretending to listen to old fart number three. Renly seemed to have noticed everything, and was giving Stannis a vaguely amused look. Stannis ignored him.

Without Sansa’s teasing touches, his trouser situation became manageable again, and he started to breathe more easily.

Dinner arrived, Robert got too drunk and told everyone at their table a hugely inappropriate joke, there were a few more incredibly boring speeches, dessert came, and Stannis had to make sure not to watch Sansa as she lazily popped strawberries that had been dipped in white chocolate into her mouth.

Finally people began to stand up and mingle, a few couples starting to dance when a string quartet began to play.

Renly whisked Sansa away before Stannis had a chance to object, and he was forced to watch as seemingly every man in the room fell over himself in order to get a turn with her. He did not like to dance, so he stubbornly kept out of the way, seething with jealousy and scowling at anyone who tried to approach him. 

Renly had always been immune to his scowls, however.

“You know, you could just go and ask her to dance with you instead,” his younger brother told him conversationally.

“I don’t like dancing,” Stannis grumbled.

“But you do like her, don’t you?” Renly asked with a smirk, “and she likes dancing.” He acted like he was explaining basic arithmetic to Stannis and that Stannis was being particularly dense.

He glared at his annoying younger brother and Renly met his murderous gaze evenly, giving him a winning smile in return.

“Just something to think about,” Renly said and walked off.

Stannis continued to glare at Renly until he couldn’t see him anymore, and then turned to glare at the dance floor. When he saw Sansa dancing with Garlan Tyrell, he forgot that he hated dancing. Wasn’t it enough that Renly was practically engaged to Loras, did those blasted Tyrells have to keep pawing at _his_ Sansa, too?

He marched over to the dancing couple and tapped Garlan brusquely on the shoulder. Garlan took one look at his face, blanched, and bowed to Sansa.

“Lovely to dance with you, I must be going now,” Garlan said, turning to flee the dance floor without waiting for a reply.

Sansa stifled a laugh when she saw him, but fell into position in his arms, effortlessly following his lead.

“I’ve never seen Garlan that frightened! What’s got into you?” she asked, her tone amused and curious.

“Nothing,” he told her in a clipped voice, focusing on his steps and regretting his hastily made decision to run Garlan off the dance floor.

Sansa seemed to sense that he was using all of his concentration to keep from stepping on her toes, so she remained silent for the rest of the dance, smiling happily at him with a dreamy look in her eyes. 

_Perhaps dancing with her was not so bad…_

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of boring conversations with boring people that Stannis disliked. Sansa went off to ‘network’ after their dance, and he watched her whenever he could, drinking in her beautiful form and looking forward to getting her home.

Home was his apartment in King’s Landing these days. He only stayed in Dragonstone a few nights a month, taking the ferry back and forth when he needed to be there for work. He didn’t mind getting up early to catch it, and he liked knowing that Sansa would be able to sleep a little longer before going about her day. (Sansa’s work was in King’s Landing, and staying at the apartment was much more convenient for her.)

As he drove them towards the high rise where they lived, he lost control of his mouth and asked her a question he had never really meant to ask her.

“Do you regret breaking things off with Willas Tyrell?”

He wanted to take the words back as soon as he’d said them. They made him sound ridiculous and jealous of a man who was so far in Sansa’s past that he might as well have been a ghost.

“No, of course not, why would you ask that?” Sansa said, sounding surprised.

Because she had looked beautiful on the dance floor with Garlan Tyrell. The pair of them had looked beautiful together. A golden _young_ couple.

“No reason,” he said, feeling embarrassed.

“Has this got anything to do with my dance with Garlan?” she asked shrewdly.

“You looked very… nice together.” _Seven hells, could he sound any more childish?_

“I’m sure Robert and Cersei looked very nice together, too. At some point.”

Stannis sighed. Sansa was right. Looking nice together did not necessarily mean a couple was _happy._

“Forget I asked, I’m being absurd,” he muttered, glad that it was dark inside the car. Sansa might not have noticed how red he was getting.

“Yes, you are. But that’s all right, I don’t mind telling you that I’m perfectly happy to be yours, and that _you’re_ the one I was thinking about while I was dancing with the others,” Sansa finished her sentence on a decidedly suggestive note, and Stannis became intensely curious about what exactly she had been thinking.

“You were thinking about me?” he asked, hoping to get her to elaborate, his grip on the steering while tightening.

“Oh, yes. Do you think you can make threats like that over dinner and not drive a girl to distraction?” she said playfully, using her hand to knead his thigh pleasantly.

“You started it,” he growled, relieved that his stupid question about Willas hadn’t put her off him for the night.

“Yes, but I behaved after what you said, didn’t I?” she pointed out piously.

“You call dancing with every man in the room while wearing _that,_ behaving?” he challenged, wanting her to be a little worried. It was very entertaining when she thought he might not give her what she wanted.

“Didn’t you say you liked this dress?” she pouted, a definite note of exaggerated worry in her voice. He suppressed a smirk at hearing it.

“I like it very much. I didn’t like how much everyone else seemed to like it, however,” he explained, giving her a brief stern look before focusing back on the road.

“I - I can’t control other people!” she exclaimed, a little panicked now.

“Hm, I suppose not,” he conceded at length, watching her from the corner of his eye and enjoying the way she was biting her bottom lip nervously and staring at him with a deeply worried gaze, her cheeks flushed an excited pink, obviously enjoying their verbal sparring.

“So, you’re not going to…?” Sansa trailed off, still blushing.

“Leave you unsatisfied?” he finished for her, his voice low and husky, “that depends on what you do when we get home.”

“What would you like me to do?” Sansa asked seductively, catching on to his game right away. She always did.

“That would be telling,” he said solemnly, smiling inwardly when Sansa let out a small noise of frustration.

Sansa practically threw herself at him the second the front door clicked shut behind them. Kissing him desperately and tugging on his hands until they were poised above the zipper of her dress, whimpering meaningfully at him when he made no move to undress her.

“Please tell me what you want me to do,” she said, breaking their kiss and giving him one of her irresistible imploring looks.

“Get in bed, don’t take off your dress, don’t touch yourself,” he ordered, watching as she hurried to comply.

He was fully erect and very excited at the prospect of the things he intended to do with Sansa, but he forced himself to take his time about putting his clothes away neatly - even stopping to give his shoes a brief polish - then taking a while in the bathroom, being even more thorough than he usually was about washing his face and hands, taking his time brushing his teeth and flossing, and even using mouthwash for the full thirty seconds suggested on the label.

Sansa had watched him resentfully as he had been fiddling with his clothes, and her mouth had actually dropped open in affronted disbelief when he had started on his shoes, but there had been a telltale flush colouring her cheeks, her neck and her chest, so he knew she was aroused despite herself; the wait hopefully driving her a little mad with need. Judging from the way she was pressing her thighs together and squirming, he was certain that was the case.

He emerged from the en suite wearing his customary sleepwear of no shirt and pyjama bottoms, and got on the bed next to Sansa, looking at her appreciatively. She never looked more beautiful than when she was hopelessly aroused and a little furious with him.

“I’m terribly tired,” he said seriously, even as his erection tented his sleepwear and belied his words, “perhaps I’ll just go to sleep.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Stannis. If you’re tired I won’t keep you _up._ Only, could you help me with my dress now?”

She was calling his bluff, using her most seductive tone of voice and caressing his name in a way only she seemed to know how to do. She never called him ‘darling’, or ‘love’ or any pet names. She only used his given name, and she could make it sound positively _decadent_ on her tongue. She turned her back on him and lifted her beautifully curled and intricately styled hair out of the way to expose the back of her gown and her graceful neck.

Stannis swallowed, hardly able to believe that after three years together she could still take his breath away with such a simple gesture. He went to her in a trance, kissing the back of her neck hotly and unzipping her slowly, letting his fingertips ghost over the skin of her back as it became exposed.

She stood up to let the dress pool at her feet, revealing herself to be wearing a set of beige underwear that had made it look like she was wearing nothing at all under the cream gown. Her eyes locked on his as she slowly stripped for him, until she was completely naked aside from the sparkling necklace and earrings she still wore. Gifts from him, if he was not mistaken.

“Still tired?” she asked him in a low whisper, her full lips pouting prettily, her lipstick a deep, glistening red tonight.

He was almost panting, so he shook his head ‘no’ and reached out for her impatiently. She came to him with a flirtatious smile and a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” she whispered into his ear once she was with him on the bed.

Her pretty red pout had made him desire those lips on his cock, so he shook his head slowly. “You have to earn it first,” he told her sternly, touching her shoulder gently to indicate what he wanted.

Sansa was only too happy to oblige, pulling his pyjama bottoms off and kneeling between his thighs on the bed, bending to her task with apparent relish. He’d be covered in lipstick down there, but the view was _worth it. _Seeing her plump lips envelop the head of his cock as she coyly looked up at him was intensely arousing, and he was moaning in pleasure almost right off the bat. She was very familiar with what he liked, and wasted no time in using all of her tricks to get him to the edge.__

__“If you want me to be of any - _ah!_ \- use to you, it might be prudent for you to stop now,” he said after a while, gasping his words out a little incoherently._ _

__She let him go with a smile, clearly pleased with herself for getting him in such a state so quickly._ _

__He knew he’d come pretty much immediately if he entered her at this point, so he decided some delaying tactics were in order._ _

__He got off the bed and opened the bottom drawer on the nightstand - a drawer he would never want Shireen to open - he quickly found the little personal massager Sansa liked and shut the drawer again._ _

__“Lie on your back and spread your thighs,” he directed her hoarsely, ignoring the demands of his cock and getting on his side next to her instead of climbing on top. Rubbing himself absently against her thigh to quieten his aching erection, he started to use the small toy to torture Sansa._ _

__He brought her to the edge again and again, taking the device away at the last second, making her cry out and beg in frustration. Then he started to do the opposite, letting her come, but forcing her to keep coming for much longer than she ever would have been able to stand if she were holding the device herself. When she was swollen and red and so sensitive that even his fingers brushing lightly against her made her gasp, he put the device aside and _finally_ pushed himself inside her soaking, greedy passage. She whimpered at the sensation and moaned loudly when he put her calves over his shoulders and started to plough into her ruthlessly, grunting at the welcome sensation of her snug heat pulsating around his long-denied cock, coming within minutes as Sansa sobbed his name. (“Stannis, Stannis, _Stannis!_ ”)_ _

__His vision went black for a few seconds as his orgasms swept through him, his hips snapping forwards several times as he shuddered with aftershocks._ _

__He was utterly spent, his spine feeling like it had melted, and he rolled to the side and tried to remember to breathe._ _

__It was in that moment of perfect post-orgasmic clarity that he decided to ask her to marry him. But thankfully he was too exhausted to get around to it just then. The proposal he had in mind would have to include a ring, after all._ _

____

***

Sansa giggled until she thought she would start weeping with mirth behind the curtains at the exclusive club Renly had rented for Stannis’ stag party. Margaery Tyrell was with her, and she told Sansa to get it together, or she’d ruin her make-up.

“I can’t help it, I keep picturing the look on his face when he sees me!” Sansa giggled helplessly.

“You won’t be able to sing if you’re so out of breath from laughing like a silly goose!” Margaery scolded her, smiling and rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure this is going to be okay?” Sansa asked once she got herself under control.

“Of course it is! Anyway, you know that Stannis absolutely vetoed any hired entertainment. Renly and Loras were at a complete loss until I remembered you can sing! They thought they’d be throwing the dullest stag party in history. Honestly, I don’t know what Loras would do without me,” Margaery chattered as she fussed with Sansa’s outfit, straightening the fabric and brushing off imaginary lint.

“No, I mean… You know how we ‘met’. Do you think this will make him uncomfortable?” Sansa asked, wanting to worry at her bottom lip but restraining herself so she wouldn’t ruin her lipstick.

“Oh, honey! This is _completely_ different. You’re doing this because you want to. For _him._ He’ll know that.” Margaery looked uncharacteristically serious as she spoke, meeting Sansa’s eyes confidently.

A few minutes later Margaery had gone to exchange meaningful looks with Loras to check whether it was time to start. Upon her return Sansa anxiously asked her what they were doing out there.

“Most of them are drinking whiskey, enjoying expensive cigars and poking fun at your fiancé. Stannis is drinking his lemon water and scowling at them. Loras gave me the signal, though, so we should get you to your spot.”

Sansa did not feel like giggling now that her nerves took over. She hadn’t performed in years! Unless singing in the shower counted? What if she was terrible?

The music started and the curtains parted. It was too late to back out now.

She put on her brightest most flirtatious smile, and began to sing rather coyly into the cordless microphone, hoping Stannis would be able to appreciate the dark humour of the song she had selected.

“The minute you walked in the joint,” she began, noticing how Stannis’ party had gone silent, all the men gaping at her with their mouths wide open. Except Stannis, he had clenched his jaw shut and was glaring daggers at Renly. She was pretty sure he hadn’t taken a proper look at her yet, as he seemed to be growling something along the lines of: ‘I said no entertainers!’ at his brother.

“I could see you were a man of distinction, a real _Big Spender_ ,” she continued, watching Stannis carefully and waiting for him to recognise her voice and give her a proper once over.

She was not disappointed by his reaction when he finally did turn to give her a good look. His face went from menacing annoyance, to aroused embarrassment in no time flat, his eyes wide and dark, his skin flushed.

“Good looking, so refined... say, wouldn't you like to know what's going on in my mind?”

She started to make her way down the steps to the side of the stage, heading straight towards him. The other men had moved the table and the other chairs away from him, so he was sitting by himself and looking rather lonely.

As she came to a halt in front of him, his eyes raked over her golden burlesque outfit, chosen specifically to cater to his preferences. The corset was making it a little difficult to sing, but it made her waist look _tiny_ and pushed her breasts all the way up, a fact that did not seem to be escaping Stannis as she perched a knee on the seat of his chair between his thighs, leaning towards him and still singing.

“... I can show you a good time, let me show you a good time,” she sang seductively into his ear, making the rest of the men start to cat call and wolf whistle.

She backed off and started to circle his chair as she continued to sing, letting her free hand trail over his shoulders, touching his cheek, ruffling his hair, and tugging on his tie.

At the end of the song, she sat sideways in his lap and gave him a kiss full on the mouth, making sure to spread lipstick all over him, because he always pretended to hate that. Then she continued to kiss him on the cheeks and his neck, making sure he was covered in lipstick marks by the time she was through.

That done, she jumped up from the chair, curtseyed to the other men and blew Renly and Robert kisses, though Robert probably didn’t notice as he had buried his face in his hands. She turned on her high heels and went to hide backstage, feeling like her heart was about to beat its way out of her chest.

“Oh, my Gods! That was magnificent!” Margaery squealed, jumping on Sansa and hugging her tightly with excitement.

“Really?” Sansa asked with a nervous smile, shoving Margaery off so she would be able to breathe. As much as she was able to breathe in her corset, anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Every straight man in the room was looking so _jealous._ Well, except Robert. He looked like he was dying of embarrassment.”

Sansa’s nervous smile became a wide, wicked one instead. She loved making other men jealous of Stannis when the occasion called for it. She hoped she hadn’t scarred poor Robert for life, however. He liked to come over all delicate when it came to seeing the slightest indications of her and Stannis being in a sexual relationship. Although Sansa knew he only behaved that way because he didn’t like it when Stannis was the centre of her attention.

“Perfect, let’s go get some bubbly across the street to celebrate!” Sansa suggested cheerfully, turning around so that her back was to Margaery, “but you have to get me out of this torture device, first.”

***

Sansa had been asleep for hours by the time Stannis finally stumbled into bed with her, obviously having been persuaded to switch from water to something stronger at some point in the night.

“Hey,” she said softly, “have a good time tonight?”

“Mmfm,” Stannis mumbled, having collapsed face first on his pillow. Still fully dressed, of course.

She giggled and set about turning him over and pulling his clothes off.

“You are so beautiful,” he said hoarsely, and slightly drunkenly.

“Thank you,” she said politely, dragging his trousers down his legs.

“I don’t deserve you,” he continued with just a tiny hint of a slur.

“No you don’t,” she said with a smile, forcing him to sit so she could get his jacket and his shirt off.

“You are so pretty,” he began again, clearly having forgotten that they had already covered that part. 

“Thank you, again,” she couldn’t help giggling a bit more, amused to see him in such a state.

They didn’t speak much as she prodded him off the bed and into the en suite, leaving him naked in front of the toilet and hoping he’d know what to do. He was obviously not too drunk to work it out, as she could her the toilet flushing a few moments later, and then some splashing around at the sink. He even brushed his teeth by the sound of it. She barged in on him to make sure he drank a tall glass of water, and then helped him get back into bed.

“Will you marry me?” he asked once she had settled herself against his chest, a strong arm around her.

“I’m already marrying you,” she said waving her engagement ring in front of his face.

“That’s good,” he said happily, “I love you so much,” he added absolutely sincerely, falling asleep immediately after he’d managed to get the words out.

“I love you too,” she returned softly, kissing his chest and falling back to sleep herself with a carefree, contented smile on her face.

Life was perfect.

**The end.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine the golden burlesque outfit to look something like [this.](http://sarahtheblack.tumblr.com/post/131413837908)
> 
> The song Sansa sings is of course Shirley Bassey's _Big Spender_ \- you can listen to it [here](https://youtu.be/leqHnUM64HU) if you want.
> 
> Lastly - thank you so much to every one of you for reading this crazy little story! Special thanks to those of you who have been commenting and encouraging me, giving me ideas and helping me make the story even better!
> 
> Oh, and because I forgot to make a note of it in the previous chapter, the name of the restaurant Sansa and Stannis go to on their first date - The Crimson Room - was shamelessly stolen from [ShipMaester](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMaester/pseuds/ShipMaester) and her wonderful fic [The Haunting of Stannis Baratheon.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4752674) If you haven't read it yet, you should go do that now!
> 
> Thank you all again, and I hope you liked this final chapter. ♥


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